


Strictly Business

by KawaiiKekeChan



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-04 16:58:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6666760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KawaiiKekeChan/pseuds/KawaiiKekeChan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been ten years since she had last seen him in the flesh. Ten years since their one-night-stand, and suddenly those mortifying memories were swimming before her. Judging by the way Adrien’s face has turned ashen, he too was facing a similar replay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Marinette smiled brightly as she entered the room, her kitten heels clacking confidently on the lino. Her gaze slid over the panellists that would be conducting the interview: Gabriel Agreste, founder of the fashion house, Nathalie, his secretary, and… _Adrien_?

Their eyes locked and Marinette felt her professional mask slip.

It has been ten years since she had last seen him in the flesh. Ten years since their one-night-stand, and suddenly those mortifying memories were swimming before her. Judging by the way Adrien’s face has turned ashen, he too was facing a similar replay.

Marinette made it to her seat and brushed a steadying hand through her hair, checking her business bun was still in place. She placed her handbag down gently on the floor and smoothed her palms down her black polka dot pencil skirt.

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” Gabriel was leafing through her resume. “Impressive, I must say. Top of your class at Chambre Syndicale. Internship at Chanel, with a glowing reference... didn’t you go to school with my son?”

Marinette swallowed and gave a nod. “Yes, monsieur. We were at Dupoint together.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Gabriel smiled, without warmth. “I never forget a name.”

Adrien glared at his father before fixing his eyes on the papers in front of him. It seemed their relationship hadn’t improved, despite the young man’s studies in Milan. Marinette hadn’t realised he had returned to Paris.

“So, tell me,” Gabriel said smoothly (Marinette clamped her hands together, trying to think of anything apart from _Yes, it was me, I took your son’s virginity!_ ) “Why do you want to work here?”

Marinette flashed her teeth in the grin of someone with their hands in the cookie jar. She really hoped her red lipstick wasn’t on her teeth.

“Well, Monsieur, I’ve always been a massive fan of your designs. I’m at the stage of my career now where I’m looking for a fresh challenge, and I think I have the ability and vision to create a line of womenswear for your label.”

“Your current role is?” Nathalie prompted.

“Assistant head designer,” she supplied. “I’ve been in the role for three years, and as much as I love the label, I would like to move to a larger house, where my creativity can flourish.”

Adrien was watching her now, a small smile on his face. But she dared not look at him, in case she returned to the stuttering teen of ten years ago.

* * *

“Wait, Marinette!” Adrien had followed her. She paused, tucking a stray stand of hair behind her ear before turning around to face him.

“It’s so good to see you!” he said, genuinely, and he stopped on the stair above her.

“You too!” Marinette felt her cheeks ache from all the smiling. “I didn’t know you were back in Paris.”

“Just landed last week,” Adrien grinned. “I haven’t even seen Nino yet. How is he?”

“Great!” Marinette enthused. “Him and Alya are busy planning for the wedding.”

“Right,” Adrien said, a far-away look on his face. “Well, I just wanted to wish you good luck for the job. Let me take you out for dinner, if you get it.”

“Thanks, Adrien,” Marinette remained composed, and she gave a wave before going down the stairs.

There was no way she was getting the job.

* * *

“There’s no way you can give her the job, Père,” Adrien said, his face flushed.

“Why not?” Gabriel asked, peering over his glasses. “She’s more than qualified.”

“Because…” Adrien struggled to think of a reason that wasn’t _she was my first time and I came in about two seconds and I don’t want to be reminded of that every day._

“Is this CV a lie?” his father asked.

“No!” Adrien said, a little too defensively. Gabriel smirked. Adrien wilted.

* * *

Marinette read the offer over and over. She couldn’t quite believe it, nor the sum of money listed as her salary. She would finally be able to move out her box room, and stop living out of a suitcase! She could have a dedicated studio. She could browse sections of the supermarket that weren’t reduced!

She could… _see Adrien Agreste every day_.

She moaned. No, she was over him. It had been ten years! She was a woman now, shaped by many experiences. That little blushing girl was no more.

She hoped.

* * *

Her first day passed in a blur. She was shown into her very personal own studio: her first. It was large and airy, with lots of light from the large glass windows spanning the walls. She had her own team of staff. Her own PA and a chauffeured car, if she needed it. Marinette plastered on a big smile, trying her best to remember names and dates and swatches while internally freaking out.

He had the good grace to wait until the end of the day before startling her. Marinette was in the archives, trying to find a fabric that she remembered from an old catalogue that would look perfect for the gown she was visualising.

“Aha!” she snatched victory, seizing the catalogue, dusting it off. It was ten years old, and she flicked through, remembering drooling with Ayla over designs she couldn’t afford on her meager pocket money. A warm flush overtook her as she realised she was the one now creating those designs. It seemed fitting to include a little of the past in her collection.

“Marinette?” his voice called her out of her stupor, and she flinched as Adrien Agreste appeared in front of her, in all his modelling glory. She mentally applauded Gabriel as she surveyed his bottle green waistcoat and matching suit pants. An ivory long-sleeved shirt, rolled back, with a champagne-coloured tie and brown brogues finished the look.

“They told me you would be here,” Adrien smiled. “I owe you dinner, remember?”

* * *

Marinette was glad she had overdressed, for once. She followed Adrien into the luxurious restaurant, conscious of every eye on the model in front of her, before curiously shifting to herself. She wore a lilac shift dress decorated with a delicate print of cherry blossom, teamed with a white bow-belt and string of pearls. Her hair was in a bun again, just because it had grown long, and it annoyed her when she was working.

Adrien held out her chair for her, and she sat down demurely. She had never been in a restaurant so fancy before: it wasn’t even the décor, just the whole feel of the place was grandeur.

The waiter came over, and reeled off a list of specials: Marientte hadn’t heard of half the dishes before. She decided to copy Adrien, since she knew he had good taste.

“Champagne?” Adrien asked her.

“Um…” Marinette wasn’t really a fan of the stuff. “I like the pink kind?”

She watched the model’s lip quirk. “A bottle of Moët Rosé, please.”

“So,” Marinette spread the napkin on her lap, to occupy her hands. “How was Milan?”

“Hot,” Adrien scrunched up his nose.

“You were studying?” she asked.

“Yeah, business and finance,” he said, teasing an olive between his fingers. “Père wants me to take over the running of the company, since I’m not into design. I prefer it over the modelling.”

“Have you stopped that completely?” Marinette asked. She had noticed that he hadn’t been in many magazines or billboards in the last few years, and it had been a welcome relief.

“Mmm,” he replied. “We’ll see.”

Realising it was a touchy subject, Marinette steered them back to safer waters, making small chat about some of the people she had met in the fashion industry.

The food arrived, and it was wonderful. The soup was more like a froth of mushroom, and although there wasn’t much substance, it was delicious. Next, a beautiful light salmon tart, with the most wonderful salad Marinette had ever tasted.

Adrien kept refilling her glass, and she could feel herself relax more into the conversation. They joked about their school days, and inevitably, the last time they had seen each other. Alcohol had been involved then, too.

“About that night…” the blonde model was the first to tackle the subject. “I really want to apologise, Marinette. I was young, and I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. I was too embarrassed to face you after it…and I’m sorry we lost touch.”

“It’s fine, Adrien,” Marinette said warmly, touching his hand. “We were teenagers! Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks,” he smiled warmly. “I’m really relieved we can talk about it like this. I’ve thought about that night a lot, and I really worried it might have…affected you, you know. Being your first time and all... I really wanted to make it up to you.”

Marinette swallowed, unsure if the rose blush on her cheeks was from the wine or his words.

“Not like that!” Adrien gasped, waving his hand frantically. “Oh my God, that is really not what I meant.”

He covered his face with his hands, aghast, and Marinette couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that broke from her lips.

“Adrien, it’s fine!” she giggled, tugging at his wrist. “I’ve had worse propositions…”

The wine had loosened her tongue and she _really shouldn’t have said that_.

“I mean…!” she backtracked, aware of Adrien’s stunned expression, “Oh God, sorry, please forget that!”

Luckily the model just laughed, and topped up her wine. “It’s good to see we’re much more suave now we’re adults, Marinette…”

She dipped her head, a smile tugging at her lips as she felt the warmth of their connection thrum through her.

* * *

It was three weeks before she saw him again. She was up to her elbows in samples, and she had sent the staff home, while she worked through the night. The catalogue deadline was looming, and she couldn’t work in her box room the way she could work here. She was moving out as soon as she received her first pay cheque, so her flat was a complete and utter mess.

“Evening,” Adrien’s golden hair materialised from behind her door. “You’re the last person in the building, you know.”

“Hi,” Marinette mumbled through a mouth full of pins.

Adrien shrugged back his shirtsleeve to look at his watch. “It’s past eleven. Are you actually planning to go home, or…?”

“Nearly done,” she mumbled.

“You know, I love hard-working staff as much as the next boss, and I’d never complain about your work ethic, but I just checked your time sheet. You’ve barely been home this week, Marinette. It’s not healthy.”

She glared at him, pencil tapping against her sketchpad. “Are you done? Because I’d like to finish this—”

A low rumble echoed through the studio, and it was Adrien’s turn to stare sharply at her. “When did you last eat?”

She blinked, and looked at the clock. “Um, lunchtime?”

“When was that?” he asked pointedly, his smart shoes clacking on the wooden floor.

Marinette narrowed her eyes. “Is Mr Model Agreste really going to lecture me on eating?”

Adrien leaned down and gently pulled the pins out of mouth, placing them on the table. “You bet. Let’s go.”

* * *

It was too late to go fine dining, so Adrien parked outside his favourite Japanese restaurant and pulled on a cap.

“Really?” Marinette asked from the front seat. “You think people won’t recognise you like that?”

“You’d be surprised what people miss,” he grinned, and hopped out, locking the car behind him. Marinette sunk back into the cream leather seat, inhaling the exquisite smell. She wasn’t into cars much—she walked everywhere, or took the subway—but she could see the appeal of this one. The black tinted windows were a nice touch, too. She closed her eyes, intent on a few minutes rest…

* * *

She was sound asleep when he returned, and he wasn’t surprised. Adrien smiled, closing the car door gently. He placed the bag in the back seat, and started the ignition; glad the engine was whisper silent. Adrien realised he should have asked the girl where she lived, because he didn’t have a clue. It wasn’t the bakery anymore, that was for sure, and he didn’t really want to wake her parents up at this time—they were early risers, after all.

The only option was to take her back to the hotel. He hadn’t found a new apartment since moving back, and he had quickly refused the offer of his old bedroom at home. He couldn’t live with his father, no matter how short the stay. His freedom was part of their deal.

Adrien exited the car, hooking the bag of food from his arm. He opened Marinette’s door and she continued to sleep. He unclipped her seatbelt and scooped her up.

When was the last time he had held her? It had been as Chat, before he left for Milan. She had been a girl still, then, but her body had changed, like his. He tried not to think about it too much as he carried her into the hotel, glad reception was quiet at this time. He entered the lift, selecting the penthouse floor with his elbow.

Adrien lowered her onto the bed, tugging the sheets up to her chin. The food was still warm, and he hadn’t eaten yet, either, so he slurped noodles while watching her sleeping face. She had always been pretty, but she was beautiful now: sophisticated. Sighing, Adrien finished his meal, and padded into living room, taking a spare pillow with him to the sofa.

* * *

When Marinette opened her eyes, she immediately knew something was wrong. The lighting was off, and she was much more comfortable than usual. This wasn’t her thin and worn mattress. She jumped up, eyes flashing around the unfamiliar room, heart pounding. _How did I get here?_

There was a soft knock at the door and she sprung to her feet, glad to see her clothes were still in one piece. She opened the door, and a man in a bowtie held out a designer shopping bag. “For you, Mademoiselle.”

She accepted the bag with a nod. So, this was a hotel? It was certainly a swanky one. She closed the door, and cleared her throat, but no one seemed to be around.

Marinette recalled the events of the night before. She had dozed off in Adrien’s car, but that didn’t explain why she was in a hotel. Sitting down, she opened the bag, and buttercup yellow chiffon spilled into her lap. Marinette held it up: it was a delightful tea dress, exactly her style. She checked the label, but she didn’t recognise it. The tags had been snipped off, and she rummaged through the tissue paper to find…matching yellow underwear??

“Oh my God…” Marinette felt her face flush as she held up the lacy bra and panties. A note fluttered into her lap.

 

_Marinette-_

_You were sleeping so soundly I didn’t want to wake you. I thought you probably didn’t want to go into work in the same clothes, so I picked something up._

_Adrien (your boss)_

_p.s don't worry, I slept on the couch_

 

She squeaked, pressed her hands against flamed cheeks. “Oh my God…”

* * *

Adrien struggled to focus in the board meeting. He had barely slept the night before, knowing that Marinette had been in the next room, in the bed he had previously slept in. Had he made the wrong decision? Should he have just woken her up in the car? Then they could have at least eaten together before he had dropped her home. The situation was just so awkward, and now _he had bought her lacy underwear and she was going to be wearing it to work_.

He realised everyone in the room was looking at him. His father raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, could you repeat the question?” Adrien asked, swallowing.

* * *

There wasn’t any time to over think it: she jumped in the shower, glad that being in a hotel meant there was shampoo and shower gel, and being such a high-class establishment, there was only the best of the best. Marinette quickly dried her hair, scarfed down the remaining food sitting on the counter from last night’s takeaway and changed into her new clothing.

The underwear was a fine fit, and she gasped as she gazed into the mirror. _He’s a model_ , she reminded herself. _He’s been working in the fashion industry for over a decade._

The dress was wonderful and cool against her skin and complimented her body shape perfectly. Marinette left her hair down, since she had no spray to style it with, and was eternally glad she carried powder and lipstick in her handbag. She slipped on her black pumps, and was glad she had thought ahead and called her chauffeur.

* * *

Gabriel had called her into his office, and Marinette took quick lungfuls of air the whole walk. _Well, I nearly made it a month, but now I’m going to get fired because I went back to his son’s hotel room. Oh, and I’m wearing the underwear he bought me._

She knocked on the door and entered after the bark of “come in!”

Marinette was glad to see he was alone. She stood in front of him, holding the draft sketches for the women’s autumn/winter catalogue. He held out his hand, and she passed over the book. Gabriel indicated to a seat, and she slumped into it.

They sat in silence for ten minutes as he flicked through the pages. Marinette nibbled on her lip. It was excruciating, the way his face didn’t reflect his emotions. Adrien’s personality seemed to be more like his mother’s, though she had never met her, only seen her photo.

“Good,” Gabriel nodded, and she exhaled. “Take out page four, and rethink the dress on the last page. But everything else is fine.”

“Thank you,” Marinette stood up and accepted the book.

“Yellow suits you,” Gabriel said, a small smile tugging at his cheek, before he dismissed her with a wave. She squeaked a thanks, her heart hammering as she escaped into the corridor. Maybe the father and son were more familiar than she thought.

* * *

Adrien caught her just as she was leaving the building—on time, for a change. With the deadline met, there was no need to work a crazy shift, and she was feeling exhausted from her meeting with Gabriel.

“Marinette!” he was a few steps behind her, and she paused, waiting for him at the front door.

“Adrien,” she tried not to blush. “About last night…”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t bring you to work, but I had a 6am shoot,” he winced. “It was weird, waking up like that, right?”

“No…it was fine!” Marinette reassured him. “And thanks for the dress. That was really thoughtful of you.”

“It really suits you,” Adrien beamed. “Like I thought.”

She blinked. “Thanks. Um, just take it off my pay cheque or something?”

He laughed, and leaned closer to her. “Consider it a gift. I’m not sure we would want to explain to payroll about that little transaction.”

“Right!” Marinette flushed.

His fingers trailed through the ends of her hair. “It’s long,” he remarked, before snatching his hand back, as if burned. “Sorry! That was inappropriate.”

She giggled. “More inappropriate than buying me underwear?”

“Ah,” Adrien grimaced. “It was the girl in the shop that suggested it, you know? Because of the light material and the colour…of course, if you had been wearing nude underwear it would be fine, but if it were black or something it would have shown through…” he trailed off, seeing Marinette’s face.

“Sorry, I’m just rambling about underwear now, aren’t I?” he asked, covering his eyes.

“It was very thoughtful,” she grinned, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

They stood in silence for a few moments, Adrien trying hard to not picture Marinette in said lacy bra and panties.

“I heard my father was really impressed with the draft catalogue,” he finally managed to speak. “Good job.”

“Thanks,” Marinette beamed. “I can’t wait to bring them to life.”


	2. Chapter 2

“We’re just through here,” the letting agent opened the door, and Marinette stepped into the bright, open-plan apartment. It was very modern, with all white-décor and polished wooden floors. The living room window was from the ceiling to floor, and as Marinette drunk in the different levels of the apartment, she shook her head.

“I think there’s been a mistake…” she started, but quickly stopped talking as another set of footsteps echoed in the room. Adrien Agreste was walking down the stairs from the second level. He was wearing simple black t-shirt and jeans; designer shades perched on his tousled hair. For some reason, seeing him in such casual clothes, instead of his usual sharp suit, made her flush all the way to her nape.

“Marinette?” he was just as surprised to see her, his green eyes tired but shining. “What a coincidence! You’re flat hunting, too?”

“Yes, but…” Marinette laughed nervously and gestured her hand at the apartment. “I think there’s been a mix up. This seems way out of my budget!”

“My apologies, mademoiselle,” the agent flipped through her paperwork. “It’s all matched online these days, and sometimes errors can occur.”

“No problem,” Marinette chirped, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s a beautiful flat.”

“What do you think, monsieur?” the agent turned to Adrien, trying to salvage the situation.

“Yes, it’s perfect,” he grinned. “When can I move in?”

* * *

 

They waited outside for the agent to set the complicated security system.

“I’m glad you found something,” Marinette said, trying to start a conversation. “It can be so time consuming, looking for a place.”

“Yeah,” Adrien agreed, his hands in his pockets. “It’s a real pain. Did you just start looking today?”

“I’ve not had much luck so far. Places go so quickly in this area.”

He hummed in agreement. “I’m sorry I can’t hang around, but I’ve got a million things to do today. See you Monday?”

“Sure,” Marinette said, trying not to swoon. _This is your boss. This is your BOSS._

* * *

 

Work became frantic as they neared the first womenswear fashion show and Marinette struggled to fit in viewings with her crazy schedule. She often had to work all day, and then attend a fashion event at night, so the only possible time was the weekend, when the viewings were the most competitive. She was financially able to move-out, but still hadn’t found the right place. It was driving her demented.

Then, her landlord turned up at her door. Marinette had handed in her notice, and there was already interest in her flat. She had three days to move out. Panicking, Marinette called around every agency, trying to find anything. She couldn’t move back home, because it was too far from work, and Alya and Nino were too busy getting ready for the wedding.

Three days later, Marinette’s life was packed into boxes and stowed at the back of her studio. She would have to stay at a hotel until she was able to find a place that was clean and affordable. Luckily, she didn’t have much, just clothes, some books and fabric.

“Marinette?” Adrien knocked on the door of her studio, standing aside to let a staffer fly by with a measuring tape. The room was a hive of activity, and Marinette was among it all, directing the chaos. She barely noticed when he entered the room, flinching when he put a hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry!” she gasped, laughing. “I didn’t see you there! It’s so noisy today.”

“No problem,” Adrien smiled warmly, “I just wanted to double check the evening wear…” he trailed off, his eyes falling on the boxes stored at the back of the room.

“Is that fabric?” he frowned. “Do you want it moved to the storage room?”

“Oh, no!” Marinette shook her head. “It’s just, uh, some personal stuff. I’ll get it moved out tonight, sorry!”

“Did you find a place?” Adrien asked.

“Um…not yet!” Marinette said brightly, threading a needle. “I’ll just stay in a hotel until I’m sorted.”

The model frowned, but didn’t say anymore.

* * *

He returned at the end of the day, just as Marinette had heaved the first box into her arms. She gasped as the weight was lifted from her, and Adrien shifted to the side to look at her.

“You do realise how expensive the hotels are around here, right?” he grimaced. “Just stay with me for a couple of days, until you find a place.”

“I…” Marinette blinked at her boss. “I can’t impose on you like that, Adrien! Besides, you’ve just moved in…”

“It’s no problem,” Adrien laughed. “All the furniture arrived yesterday, so we’re good to go.”

He walked off with the box, his movements booking no argument, and Marinette sighed. She was too tired to fight with him, anyway. She grabbed another box and followed him down to the car.

* * *

“Wow,” Marinette said. She’d seen the apartment before, but it had been bare, and now it was totally different. Choice artwork hung on the walls, and sleek black leather sofas were positioned around a wall-mounted fireplace.

“There’s a spare bedroom up here,” Adrien called from the second floor, and Marinette followed him with the lightest box (he hadn’t allowed her to lift anything heavier.)

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Marinette gushed. It was a square room, decorated in light blue colours. There was an arched window with a box seat. Thin bookcases were built into the arch, and had already been filled with tomes. Oil paintings of the ocean decorated the walls, and shells were scattered among the shelves, along with a small ship in a bottle. There was a queen-sized bed with light blue bedding and a turquoise sequin throw.

“I was never good at designing clothes,” Adrien admitted, placing the box near the bed. “But I really love interior design.”

“It’s wonderful,” Marientte said, crossing over to the window. The night-scene of Paris unfolded below them in a collection of colours and lights.

“Well, make yourself comfortable,” Adrien smiled. “I’m just going to make some stir-fry, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yes!” Marinette nodded enthusiastically. “That would be wonderful.”

As soon as Adrien left, closing the door behind him, Marinette sunk onto the bed. She was a professional fashion designer, she reminded herself. She was no longer a teenager. Her heart was not fluttering because she would be staying the night in Adrien’s apartment, or the fact he was making food for them right at this moment.

_Liar_ , she thought.

* * *

After she composed herself and changed into more comfortable clothes, Marinette went down to the kitchen. It was open plan, with an island in the middle, and a high table with two bar stools. Adrien was easing chopped vegetables into a wok. He had removed his tie and opened his top two buttons, and she tried to pretend she couldn’t see he exposed skin.

“Can I help with anything?” Marientte asked.

“Nearly done! Just grab a seat. Do you want wine? There’s some in the fridge.”

“On a school night?” Marinette teased. “I’d like to be fit for work tomorrow, Monsieur Agreste.”

Adrien sprinkled some spring onions into the wok and quirked his brow.

“We don’t need to drink the whole bottle, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng.”

She giggled and opened the fridge. “Well, in that case…” Marinette pulled out the white wine and placed it on the counter and unhooked two wine glasses from where they were hanging above her. 

She could hear the clink of china as Adrien served the food and as she approached the table, Marinette felt a lurch of her stomach. Why did this feel so …so natural? She could have pinched herself if she had a free hand.

“This is nice,” Adrien said, as if reading her thoughts. “I’m so used to eating alone.”

“This looks amazing,” Marinette said, deciding to focus on the food. She wasn’t sure what to make of his comment.

“I eat a lot of it. It’s healthy and quick,” Adrien grinned. “I’m not that great at cooking.”

“I could cook while I’m here?” Marinette suggested. “In return for letting me stay? I’m not amazing or anything, but I know a few dishes…”

“That would be great,” Adrien said, his eyes closing as he smiled. He pushed the food around the plate before he admitted, “I’ve always wanted someone to cook for me, actually…”

Marinette struggled not to choke on her mouthful of noodles. “Oh?” she asked, sipping her wine. “Your girlfriends never cooked for you?”

Adrien scrunched his nose. “Hmm. No…they always preferred to eat out.”

“Ahh…” Marinette licked some sauce from her lip. “Eating out can be nice…but if you do it too often, it loses its appeal, I guess?”

“Yeah,” Adrien agreed, leaning back on his chair. “I can’t really enjoy my food with so many eyes watching me.”

Marinette hummed in understanding. “It must have been better in Italy?”

“A little…” Adrien sighed. “But I was dating this girl…

Marinette swallowed carefully, trying not to show a reaction. Adrien paused, as if unsure to go on.

“Italian?” Marinette asked. She was already visualising some bronzed beauty with chocolate eyes and an immaculate fashion sense.

“Yeah,” Adrien replied, standing up to fetch the wine. “She was…intense. I was flattered at first, but she just wanted to spend every minute with me. I soon realised it wasn’t me that she was after.”

Marinette clutched her fork. “She cheated on you?”

Adrien chucked as he topped up her wine. “Ah, no. I meant she was after my money…and what doors I could open for her.”

“Oh!” Marinette blushed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Adrien shrugged. “It comes with the territory, I guess. She was a singer, just starting out in the industry, so I thought we were on a similar level, but she just wanted to party all the time. Be in the limelight, constantly. It was…boring.”

Marinette shook her head, trying to understand that life. It was so far from her own experience that it was hard to comprehend.

“What about you?” Adrien asked, and he looked so earnest it was like a punch in the gut. “Are you dating?”

“Ah…no…” Marinette looked down at her plate. “I mean, I was, but I broke it off. He was really nice, but he didn’t quite understand that my career came first. He wanted us to settle down, have kids…I just couldn’t see it.”

“Understandable,” Adrien leaned his elbow on the table, chin on his palm. “I was really happy for Nino, don’t get me wrong…but I kinda freaked when he told me he was getting married. It made me feel like I was falling behind or something…”

“Oh, I know what you mean!” Marinette gushed. “Most of my girlfriends are already married or in the process. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to find a place to live!”

They laughed together, drinking their wine in quiet contemplation.

* * *

 

Marinette insisted on cleaning the plates, since Adrien had cooked, and he finally relented.

“I’ll go for a shower first then, if you don’t mind,” he said, and Marinette was glad she had her back to him, her hands warm and soapy.

“Sure thing!” she called, relieved to hear his footsteps slapping the stairs. She didn’t want him near her, not when her heart was beating so painfully fast and loud. For such a large apartment, there was only one bathroom with a shower: the bottom floor had a toilet only. 

She wiped down the counters and made sure everything was spotless before eventually heading upstairs. Adrien opened his door, as if hearing her tread.

“There’s some fresh towels in there,” he said, motioning to the bathroom. “Do you want to travel in together tomorrow? It seems silly, having both of our chauffeurs coming here.”

“Sure!” Marinette was glad her voice sounded normal, because towel-dried messy hair, a damp white t-shirt, grey sweats and bare feet was suddenly her new turn-on.

“Great,” Adrien grinned. “We can leave about eight, since the office isn’t too far away.”

“Okay,” Marinette glanced towards the bathroom. “Night then, Adrien.”

“Goodnight, Marinette,” the blonde smiled sweetly at her, before closing the door. She exhaled sharply, before fetching pyjamas and toiletries. Her heart was beating erratically as she locked herself in the bathroom, still steamy from Adrien’s shower. She breathed in the balmy air, fragranced with his shower gel, something sharp and fresh. His razor lay on the sink, and she couldn’t help but reach out and touch it, imagining being that blade, and nipping close to his throat and jaw.

“Get a grip, woman,” she muttered under her breath, turning the shower on as hot as she could, so that the bathroom fogged once again, and she couldn’t see her own embarrassed reflection.

* * *

Marinette was glad to be exhausted enough to fall into a deep sleep. She panicked in the morning, realising her pyjamas were neither sexy nor cute: in fact, was it even appropriate for someone nearer thirty than twenty to walk around in just her favourite band’s t-shirt and underwear? _Not if that person happens to be your old crush and new boss!_

She decided to dress and put on make-up before heading down for breakfast, glad there was a mirror in her room, so she didn’t need to make a mad dash to the bathroom. Marinette knew with her luck, she would end up smacking into Adrien while half-naked. She needed to invest in one of those swish silk dressing gowns.

She was first in the kitchen, and, unsure what Adrien liked for breakfast, decided to cut up some fruit for both of them. She knew he drank coffee, and had planned to have it ready for him, but there was only a complicated coffee-making machine and no coffee granules to be found. She was pondering this problem when Adrien arrived, putting a hand on her shoulder and making her start.

“Mornin’,” he yawned. “Need a hand?”

“Good morning,” Marinette once again succeeded in sounding calm. “I was going to make you some coffee, but I have no idea how this works…”

“Allow me,” Adrien laughed. “Sit.”

She obeyed, tucking her feet under the bar of the stool, watching as the model brought the machine to life with a pleasant humming noise.

“What type of coffee would you like?” he asked.

“Um…cappuccino?” she asked. Nodding, Adrien pressed the button, and then fumbled in the cupboard for two appropriate cup and saucers.

“Wow,” Marinette was impressed as he placed the saucer down. “This looks better than the stuff we make in our bakery!”

“I like my coffee,” Adrien smirked. “It’s the only house gadget I was willing to blow money on.”

“Good investment,” Marinette admitted after a sip. It tasted wonderful and she felt like an adult again, ready to face anything the day threw at her.

* * *

Or so she thought.

“Morning, Père,” Adrien chirped as they exited the car. Gabriel Agreste had just closed the door on his own limo. They had coincidentally arrived at the front door together.

Gabriel raised an elegant eyebrow, while Marinette felt her cheeks burn with the heat of a thousand suns. Adrien seemed unaffected, lopping casually into the building without a care in the world.

“Morning,” the fashion designer replied after a beat.

They walked to the elevator together in silence. Marinette drummed her fingers against her handbag, not exactly thrilled at the thought of being in such a confined space with the Agreste men. Especially not when one knew she had just spent the night with the other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone closer to thirty than twenty years old, I can confirm women my age still swoon over hot guys.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Princess?” he perked up, his green eyes just as she remembered: the startling colour of absinthe, and just as able to render her legless.

The silence was agonising, making Marinette’s skin prickle with the tension. She cast a look at Adrien, who had his hands in his pockets, the perfect picture of ease. She swallowed as the elevator light ringed each number slowly in neon green. Was this ride ever going to end?

When at last the doors groaned open, Gabriel stepped out first, leaving the two on their own. Marinette stalked to her studio at the opposite end of the corridor, almost slamming the door, before Adrien caught it and slid inside.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she burst out, unable to contain herself. “Now your father will think we’ve slept together!”

“We have slept together,” Adrien said, pointedly.

“That’s—that’s not what I meant!” Marinette hissed with embarrassment, her face beginning to resemble a freshly picked strawberry. “I meant, last night!”

Adrien shrugged. “Who I choose to sleep with or not sleep with isn’t my father’s business.”

Marinette covered her eyes. “Yes, but…”

The model laughed and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’re worried he’s going to think less of you? Or that’s you’re sleeping your way to the top?”

“It’s just that…I’ve worked so hard to get here, Adrien,” Marinette explained, gesturing to the studio. “And it’s been my own, solid graft. I want to be known for that reason, not any other.”

“Understood,” Adrien grinned, and she felt herself waver under the brightness of it. “I’ll speak to him, and make sure he understands.”

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled.

* * *

 

It turned out Adrien had several meetings to attend to that night, so he gave Marinette the key and the pin code for the flat. It felt strange, getting the chauffeur to take her there on her own. Her fingers fumbled with the key but she finally opened the door. The apartment was so empty and quiet without Adrien there.

“Well…” Marinette kicked off her heels. “I may as well take advantage of this…”

After whipping together some California Chirashi for dinner (and setting some aside for Adrien) she decided to fill up the massive bathtub that she had been eyeing since her arrival. She didn’t have one in her last flat, and she had missed the luxury of bathing in bubbles.

“Ahh, this is bliss…” Marinette relaxed into the vanilla-scented foam, feeling the tension of the day slip away. She had been terrified of bumping into Gabriel or being summoned to his office, but he had blessedly left her alone. She wondered if Adrien had spoken to him yet?

She spent an hour in the bath, taking the time to shave, exfoliate and wash her hair. Marinette felt like a shiny new woman by the time she was finished. She hummed under her breath as she made her way to the bedroom. The apartment was still whisper quiet, but she didn’t expect Adrien to be back until much later.

It was the most relaxed she had felt in weeks, as she padded around her room in a white vest top and pink shorts, moisturising her legs and arms. She carefully sprayed her hair with heat protection before blow-drying it. Now that it was much longer (and she was older) Marinette took much better care of it.

It was ten o’clock by the time she had finished drying her hair, and she was already yawning. She decided to go and double check everything was locked before heading to bed—Adrien had the spare key.

Marinette had just stepped into the hall when she heard a noise from the other bedroom. She frowned, inching closer. Yes, the hairdryer had been loud enough to cover his return, but she hadn’t been expecting him home already.

“Adrien?” she asked, knocking his door quietly. “Are you back?”

There was the sound of something breaking, and Marinette tensed, immediately jumping into Ladybug mode. She pulled the door open with a flourish, springing into the room, just in time to catch Chat Noir with one foot on the window ledge.

* * *

 

“Chat!” she gasped, her mouth open in shock. “You…you’re back?”

She hadn’t seen her partner in a long time…so long she had lost count of the years. Marinette watched as he pivoted around, returning his leg to the carpet.

“Princess?” he perked up, his green eyes just as she remembered: the startling colour of absinthe, and just as able to render her legless. But that was all that had remained the same. His body had broadened: his shoulders wide and strong, his arms and legs thicker than before. He was no longer a skinny lamppost. His suit strained against his skin.

“Chat!” she couldn’t hold back, slamming into his chest, struggling with the tears threatening to pour down her cheeks. She had missed him so much. It wasn’t until after the defeat of Hawkmoth, and after he had left for London, that she had realised what he meant to her.

“Miss me?” he teased, his arms holding her strongly against his chest. “I didn’t think it was possible princess, but you’re even more beautiful than before.”

“Well, I was a gawky teenager then,” Marinette laughed, squeezing him. “It wouldn’t be difficult.”

“You were never gawky,” Chat laughed, caressing her cheek. “Just clumsy.”

“Thanks,” Marinette giggled. “How was London?”

“Cold and wet,” Chat scrunched his nose. “And the food, my God. So greasy! I missed real bread.”

“It certainly didn’t do you any harm,” Marinette observed, her hands flattening against his chest. She remembered the days where she could lift her partner up and throw him at the incoming enemy. That wasn’t likely to happen now.

Chat grinned, his tongue flicking over his teeth. “Why, thank you. I took up rugby while I was there. The gentleman’s sport, of course.” 

“Of course,” Marinette teased. They held each others gaze for while, recommitting their faces to memory.

“It’s long now…” Chat sighed, teasing her hair through his claws. “You suit it.”

“Thanks,” Marinette smiled.

“So…” Chat’s lips curved into a knowing smirk. “What are you doing in Adrien Agreste’s apartment, princess?”

She flinched from him, her eyes blinking, as if she suddenly remembered where she was.

“I….!” Marinette put her hands on her hips. “Never mind that! What on earth are you doing climbing in Adrien’s bedroom at this time of night?”

Chat waggled his finger. “Ah-ah-ah. I asked first.”

Marinette sighed, rolling her eyes. “We work together. He’s letting me stay here until I sort my new place.”

“Oh?” Chat grinned and she knew he wouldn’t be so easily satisfied. “There were some suspicious guys outside scooping the place out. I saw the window was open, so I wanted to let the owner know that they needed to be on guard.”

Marinette puffed air from her lips. “Pfttt! The security is tight here. There’s no way anyone could break in.”

“I did,” Chat said, dancing forward until he had captured Marinette back in his arms. “How do you know I don’t have ill intentions, princess?”

Marinette glared at him. “You know I can beat you up.”

“You _used_ to be able to,” Chat corrected, effortlessly pushing Marinette backwards.

She protested, thumping his chest to no avail. “What are you…?”

But he simply bared his teeth and continued to tower over her, forcing her backwards. She received her answer seconds later, when she fell onto the bed. Adrien’s bed. It was unmade, and her bare skin was touching his sheets. Sheets he had slept in.

“Chat!” Marinette scrambled to get back on her feet, but the black cat effortlessly pinned her down. “What are you doing?”

“Being the bad guy,” he explained, his tongue pressing against his lower lip, flashing his perfect pearly whites.

“Stop it!” Marinette gasped, squirming underneath him. “Adrien is going to be home any minute!”

“Oh?” Chat chuckled. “Worried you’ll get caught cheating?”

“It’s not like that!” Marinette gritted out, as Chat’s heavy weight prevented her from moving. “We’re just colleagues!”

“Well, he won’t mind then,” Chat confirmed with delight.

“We’re in his bed!” Marinette squeaked.

“Relax, princess,” Chat wiggled his eyebrows. “Isn’t this where you’ve always wanted to be?”

Her bravado dissipated and she lowered her gaze, tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Sorry, that was uncalled for,” he apologised, his claws skimming her face.

“I did,” she admitted, hands scrunched at her sides. “Well, actually, I did get him into my bed, one night after a house party. But we were both really drunk…and…um…inexperienced.”

Chat’s eyes were luminous in the darkened room.

“What do you mean?”

Marinette laughed breathlessly. “Well, I wasn’t used to alcohol, and it was freaking Adrien Agreste kissing me, so I was literally floating. It was quite obviously the first time for both of us! I’m not sure why, but I didn’t feel anything: not even pain. And it was over so fast.”

For some reason, Chat looked pale.

“So, the worse sex of your life then?” he asked.

“Not quite,” Marinette said, humourlessly. “But anyway, why are we talking about such a depressing topic? Please let me up, Chat.”

“No,” the black cat said, shaking his head. “It’s been a long time, Marinette. Can’t you spoil me a little longer?”

She blinked at him, before reaching up to stroke his face, the skin untouched by the mask. “Kitty…what is you want?”

“You,” he said simply, leaning down to press his lips against hers. She curled around him, her fingers grabbing at his leather-clad shoulders. His claws spanned greedily over her tank top, palming her breasts underneath. Marinette gave a moan in the back of her throat. It wasn’t like she had never considered Chat attractive before; but now…now her little kitten had grown into a black beast of a man.

He nibbled at her lower lip, and her hands tangled in his wild hair. Even though she was only wearing her pyjamas, the heat between them was fierce, and Marinette was tempted to let the inferno swallow her whole.

His hand skirted down the cotton fabric until her reached the exposed skin of her stomach. As soon as she felt him tug at her shorts, she pulled back.

“No, Chat,” she told him, leaning away from his tempting fingers. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, just not _here and now_.

He seemed to ignore her warning, claws raking over her hip, before giving an “oof!” as Marinette brought up her knee, narrowly spearing him in the family jewels. She stormed off, back to the safety of her bedroom, almost managing to bang the door closed before black fingers wedged around the wood.

“Forgive me, princess…” he said, ears flat to his head. “I just got a little…carried away.”

“Yes, you did,” Marinette huffed, sitting on the window seat, her chin in her hand.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly your thoughts were elsewhere,” Marinette frowned, looking out the window.

“Princess….” Chat whined, sitting down next to her and placing his head in her lap, gazing at her adoringly. “I’m so sorry. Please pet me?”

She ignored him, eyes attached to the world outside the window, only finally relenting after several needy butts against her stomach.

“Fine,” she sighed, running her hand half-heartedly through his hair. “But you need to leave after this. I can’t explain to Adrien why there’s a stray cat in his apartment.”

Chat nodded against her palm.

* * *

An hour later, he lifts her into bed, pulling the sheets and duvet up to her chin. Chat lounges next to her, content to just listen to her breathing. He wishes he could drift off next to her, inhaling her sweet scent, feeling safe with her body heat soaking into him, warming his bones. Instead, he kisses her cheek, and returns to his own bedroom, the image of how she looked underneath him branded into his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for parallels!


	4. Chapter 4

Adrien opened the fridge just as Marinette made her way down the stairs to the kitchen. He froze upon seeing the wrapped-up rainbow dish, with a little note jauntily placed on top: ‘eat me’.

“Ah, sorry,” he apologised, placing it on the table. “I got in really late last night, and went straight to bed.”

“No problem,” Marinette smiled. She wears a navy chiffon dress that showcases her slight shoulders. There’s a pearl collar necklace around her neck and he felt winded. “It will keep for tonight.”

“I could take it for lunch?” Adrien wondered out loud, “It looks really good.”

“Sure!” Marinette agreed, locating some Tupperware and easily transferring the dish, handing it to him. For some reason the action feels like something a mother or a wife would do, and he struggles to meet her eye.

“Oh, I have some flat viewings tonight, so I’ll be late,” Marinette said, pouring some orange juice.

“I see,” Adrien deflated, cursing the disappointment that sloshes thickly through his veins. “Anything promising?”

“I hope so!” she smiled, fixing a stray curl into place. “There’s one really close to the office, only a ten walk away. Fingers crossed!”

“Yeah,” Adrien agreed, but his heart isn’t in it as he looks down at his home-cooked lunch: his first ever one.

* * *

 

As the clock struck twelve, Marinette flushed with happiness, thinking that Adrien would now be eating her meal. She’s not sure why: perhaps because it reminds her of the teenage attempts of taking him baking, which always ended in disaster. She’s mature and professional now, and she preens a little as she takes measurements and cuts fabric.

After her visit from Chat last night, she feels slightly on edge. It made her realise how much her identity was at risk, staying with Adrien. She replays Chat pushing her on down the bed, the heat of his touch on her hip, and the scissors slice through her fingertips. She winces, sticking it in her mouth, reaching for the pack of plasters she always keeps in her bag.

That night, she views three different apartments, and she’s happy that the one closest to her office is the nicest. It’s unfurnished, but clean and has potential. She puts a deposit down on the spot, knowing she’ll need to be careful for the rest of the month, but it will be worth it.

She broke the news to Adrien that night, after making them some dinner: coq au vin, a dish that her father taught her.

“That’s great, Marinette,” he said, but he doesn’t seem that interested: she guessed he’s had a long day a work. He complimented her on the food, and they share some red wine, since there’s enough left over in the bottle from the cooking.

“It’ll be the catalogue launch party soon,” Marinette mused. “Will you model the men’s collection?”

“Père wants me to,” Adrien sighed, taking another sip of wine.

She made a noise in the back of her throat. “What about what you want?” she asked, touching his arm.

His eyes widen in shock and she draws back if burned, apologising. “Sorry…I said too much.”

“No, it’s not that…” he explained, his fingers against her bare shoulder. “It’s just…it’s not that easy.”

“I’m…sorry,” she said, again.

He smiled gently, changing the subject. “When do you move in?”

“Tomorrow…” Marinette said. “I asked if I could have the keys when they were ready, and the last occupants moved out a few weeks ago, so it’s good to go.”

“That’s…quick,” Adrien sounded surprised.

“I was going to ask Gabriel if I could take tomorrow afternoon off?” she thought out loud, collecting their empty plates. “I’ve organised some furniture to arrive.”

“Just take the day off,” Adrien said, helping her to clear the table. “I can drop you off with your boxes in the morning, if that helps?”

“That would be great!” Marinette beamed. They wash and dry and quiet companionship, realising it would be their last night together.

* * *

That night, Adrien arrives back to an empty flat. It’s quiet…too quiet. Perhaps he should get a pet to keep him company, to greet him from coming home. A cat? He gives a sad smile as he flicks on the light in Marinette’s room. There’s still a sense of her in the place, even though he helped her move all her belongings. He drifts to the bed, intending to strip the covers and sheets, but instead he finds himself lying face down on the pillow, inhaling. A few long dark hairs stand out on the pale blue cotton. Her scent makes him feel the loss and he misses her, which is crazy, because he can see her at work whenever he likes. But that’s professional Marinette, not the woman who made herself at home in his apartment and cooked for him.

The need to see her is so urgent it blocks all common sense. Before he knows what he’s doing, Adrien has transformed and is pushing himself out the window. He uses his baton to propel him across the night sky and he nears their work, and her apartment.

He helped her with her boxes this very morning, so he knows what window it is. Third floor up, fifth room along. Since it’s summer, the windows are blessedly open and he wobbles on the window sill, nearly losing his balance.

She’s sleeping on a mattress in the bedroom—clearly the bed didn’t arrive today after all. There’s a thin sheet over her body, and she has her back to him, and it’s very apparent she has gone to sleep with little on. Her dark hair falls over her pale skin and Chat drops quietly into the room.

“Marinette?”

He doesn’t want to scare her, so he won’t draw any closer until she’s awake. He repeats her name, his voice growing louder, until she finally turns, mumbling, rubbing at her eyes. The sheet is blessedly wrapped around her body.

“Chat?” her eyes are open wide now, and she grasps the sheet against her chest. “What are you doing here? How did you even find me?”

He winks, and crouches down. “I scared Adrien earlier by trying to visit you. He told me your address.”

“Oh, God,” Marinette groans, covering her face. “What did he say?”

Chat cocks his head and considers. “He didn’t say much. I just told him we were friends and sometimes you helped me out.”

“I haven’t helped you out in years!” Marinette laughs, sitting up, making sure the sheet doesn’t slip. She suddenly becomes serious. “Do you need help?”

“Maybe…” Chat crawls forward, presenting the crown of his head. Marinette sighs deeply, but she raises a hand and pets him, smoothing his blonde hair and running her fingertips over his cat ears. He makes a rumble at the back of his throat, and presses closer to her body, inhaling. Her scent is so much better fresh.

“Did you have someone to pet you in London?” Marinette teases, using both hands now, as Chat nestles on her bare shoulder.

“Mmm,” he says, with non-commitment. “They weren’t as good as you though, princess.”

“You’re such a suck-up,” she says, her nails digging along his scalp, and he agrees, his lips pressing against her collarbone.

“Chat,” she says, swallowing and stopping her ministrations. “I’m… really tired. I just moved in today.”

“Please,” he begs, the need clear in his voice. “Just lie back, princess. Let me take care of you.”

He kisses her neck, and she reclines onto the mattress, Chat following. Their lips meet as he inches the sheet down her body, his leather suit cool against her warm skin. Her hands feel their way up his arms, mapping the change in his body as they kiss.

“Hello, girls,” he says fondly, kissing her caramel-coloured nipples. “Did you miss me?”

“Chat!” Marinette hisses, swatting his arm. “You’re embarrassing!”

He smirks, tongue darting out to lick at the freckles decorating her cleavage.

Her breasts are slightly bigger than he remembers, but Marinette was always a petite girl. Her hips seem to be much wider, however, and he delights in running his hands down her sides.

She’s watching him now, wondering what his next move will be. Her hair is long and dark across the pillow and he dips down, tangling his claws in it before he claims her mouth.

“I missed you,” he tells her, even though he’s sure he said it before. She softens, cupping his face.

“I missed you too, chaton,” she tells him, holding him close as if scared he’ll run away again, like he did before.

“I…” Marinette starts to speak, but Chat silences her with a kiss. “I don’t want to talk about her tonight, princess. Just…not yet.”

She nods in understanding, and pulls him flush against her body, her mouth finding his human ear under his hair and nibbling. He shudders against her, whispering a “not fair,” before making his payback, remembering how ticklish she is behind her knees. She yelps as his claws gently tease against the sensitive skin, raising her legs instinctively away. Chat takes advantage of the moment, hooking them over his shoulders and pressing a kiss against her underwear.

Marinette’s laughter stops abruptly, and she gives a gasp as he clenches the cotton between his teeth and pulls. A new trick, and it has the desired affect, as her eyes are pinned to his, dark and full of desire. He cradles her buttocks and nuzzles against her slit, remembering the sweet yet spicy scent from before. It hasn’t changed, but he has, and he’s more mature now, with more experience under his belt.

Something else under his belt too, which strains against the leather as his tongue dips in. Marinette swallows loudly, her fingers slipping into his hair. Her eyes are huge as he leans back a little, and lets saliva drip from his mouth onto her clit. He drags the wetness with his finger, the contrast of the cool leather and the warm spit making the woman buck underneath him. Chat’s fingers trace loops as his tongue dives back in, the strength of the scent telling him that Marinette is becoming more aroused. He scissors her folds open with two fingers so he can lap at her more easily, and her thighs clamp around his head.

“Chat!” she whines, and this time it’s her voice that’s needy. He drags his tongue over her clit once more before sucking. Marinette tries to buck again, and clearly he isn’t going fast enough, so he slips two fingers inside her, able to feel the warmth and wet even through the leather. He can’t go too far because of the claws, but he stretches her enough to make her gurgle.

“Please, chaton,” she gasps, and he knows his fingers aren’t enough. He hesitates as he lowers the zip on his suit, but she rises, frantically helping him, her fingers wrapped around him nice and tight at last.

“Marinette!” he groans, and she lies back down, positioning herself. He follows like a shadow, cock bobbing as if begging to be touched. The need to be inside her again is so painful, and he rubs against her slit, both to lubricate himself and because he loves the noise she makes as he bumps against her clit.

He pulls a foil out his suit pocket (because he had been hoping for this particular outcome) and snaps it on. Marinette has her legs apart and he leans over her for a greedy kiss before pushing at her entrance. She reaches down to guide him in, and there’s that wonderful rush as they join, the heat and the wet as close to his skin as his suit.

She gulps in, and he asks if she’s okay in between kisses, and she reassures him and admits it’s been a while for her. He takes it slowly then, almost jealously glad that there hadn’t been another man for a while, even though he doesn’t have the right. Her legs hook around his back and he purrs, making her giggle, and he checks that she’s comfortable before settling into a regular rhythm of thrusts.

“Princess,” he says, watching her adoringly. He loves the way she looks during their lovemaking. He dark eyelashes flutter against rose-blushed cheeks, and her lips press together as she tries to contain noise. Every now and then she’ll be unable to hold back and her mouth will form an o. Sweat glistens to her neck and her small but perfect breasts bounce in time to the thrusts. Her stomach clenches as he sinks into her again. Her hands settle on his leather-clad ass, and he increases the tempo, gratified to hear her become more vocal with her moaning.

“Chat,” she breathes, and he leans down, pressing his face against the crook of her neck, hands slipping under to cup her buttocks as he slams into her with urgency. The slap of their skin echoes in the room and Marinette clutches at his back, whimpering.

He feels a tremor zip along her body and he grins, yanking his hips back only to ram against her once more, making her body shudder around him, tightening around his cock as if trying to suck him dry. He wants to give in, but he’s determined to let her go first, because once he relinquishes control, there’s no going back.

“Marinette,” he rasps her name into her ear, just the way she likes, raw and throaty. “Please, princess. Just let go.”

He squeezes her ass for good measure and she jumps against him. She gasps, trying to hold it together, but another ardent thrust makes her melt and she spasms violently around him. He mewls with delight and follows her, chasing her orgasm as he gives some rapid pulses into her body.

“Princess,” he convulses in a hot mess, his lips pressed against her shoulder as he fills the latex casing. Exhaustion hits him, but it’s the beautiful kind that makes him want to curl up with this woman and never move again. But he shifts off her gently, removing the rubber and padding into what seems to be the kitchen, locating the garbage. He hears Marinette move into the bathroom to clean up, and he follows her, taking some tissue to remove the residue.

She wipes herself down, and in the dim light of the bathroom, she is glowing. Marinette flushes the toilet and washes her hands, and they return to the mattress, wrapped up again in each other, but this time for a different type of comfort. Chat rubs his nose against her neck, possessively glad that she smells just like him again. She whispers a good night to him and they fall asleep, dreaming of a similar night in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week, a flashback to the past ;)


	5. Chapter 5

_10 years ago…_

* * *

 

“It’s useless, Tikki,” Marinette cries, her face pressed against the cold, wet ground. She’s so weak and exhausted that it’s impossible to move another muscle. Chat has already fallen, and she’s crawled as close to him as possible. Blood trickles from his hairline, but she knows he’s not dead. Yet.

“Give up, Ladybug,” Hawkmoth croons from above, leaning on his cane. “Just give me your miraculous willingly, and I’ll make it all stop.”

“Never!” she grits out, shaking her head with the little strength she has left. “Tikki, what do I do?”

“There’s only one option left,” the little red god tells her, pressing against the heroine’s face. Hawkmoth is drawing closer, taking his time, and enjoying their utter helplessness.

“Tikki!” Marinette gasps, urgently.

“It means saying goodbye for a long time,” Tikki says sadly. She pats her cheek. “But I believe in you, Marinette.”

Without another word, she zooms into Ladybug’s earrings. Marinette transforms, and finds the strength to pull herself to her knees. She holds out her yo-yo with a shaking hand, but Hawkmoth laughs, pointing the tip of his cane at her.

“Just try it, Ladybug. You didn’t succeed before.”

She presses her lips together in determination. She knows her kwami can hear her.

“Miraculous Ladybug!” she yells, and throws the yo-yo. Hawkmoth staggers back at the purifying light and the heroine screams, her ears burning red hot. She clutches at them, hitting the concrete, cold pain lancing through her knees.

Ladybug shudders, closing her eyes to stop the tears threatening to squeeze out, resisting the urge to rip the studs from her lobes. There’s a flash of white light behind her lashes and she prises them open, only to see Hawkmoth go down. She stumbles to her feet, and the earrings pop out into her palms.

“Tikki?” Marinette asks, as the transformation peels away. It feels different this time…more final. Her kwami is nowhere to be seen. She swallows, kneeling down next to Hawkmoth…or whoever he is now. Marinette doesn’t recognise the man, but the brooch near his throat crumbles at her touch.

“LB?” Chat groans from nearby, and she freezes.

“I’m sorry, Chaton!” she says, unable to face him. She runs.

* * *

Marinette is still numb with shock when he slips in her skylight that night. Even with his mask, she can tell his face is swollen from crying.

“Princess…did you see what happened?”

She takes a calming breath, trying to stop her own tears. “I saw it on the Ladyblog. Hawkmoth was defeated? That’s wonderful, Chat.”

“Not that,” the black cat shakes his head. “Ladybug left right after the fight. I opened my eyes, and she was gone. She’s never done that before! What if she’s still hurt? What if Hawkmoth got rid of her?”

“Didn’t Ladybug destroy his miraculous?” Marinette asks, trying to calm him. “Maybe she was hurt and had to get away.” There was no footage of the actual fight, thankfully, just the aftermath. The public still has no clue as to her identity.

“But Ladybug usually fixes everything first,” Chat says, his hand straying to his head. There’s a bandage wrapped clumsily under his hair. “She’s never just…vanished before.”

“Let me see that,” Marinette interrupts, inching forward to lift his hair and examine the bloody bandage. “Did you go to a hospital?”

“No…I wanted to look for her,” Chat admits.

She sighs, and climbs down the ladders, grabbing her pink first aid kit from under her desk.

“Well, first things first, let’s get you treated,” the girl says, re-joining him on the bed.

“Thanks, princess,” Chat sighs, as she removes the bandage and carefully holds back his blonde hair so she can dab at the injury with cotton wool and antiseptic. The gash isn’t deep, but she wants to make sure it’s clean.

“You might have concussion.”

“I’m fine,” Chat says, stubbornly. “Just…tired from the fight.”

She wraps his head in clean cotton, and he wilts against her. Marinette swallows the lump in her throat, and after knotting the bandage neatly, embraces Chat.

“It’s okay, kitty,” she tells him, even as the tears prick her eyes.

“She’s not coming back, is she…” Chat says, mournfully. Marinette bites her lip and rubs his back in soothing circles. “We were losing, badly. I have a feeling…like she had to sacrifice something, in order to defeat him. It’s the type of thing she would do.”

She can’t lie to him. The truth is, she has no idea how ‘long’ the goodbye will be. The miraculous earrings are safely stored in their black box. Marinette doesn’t know when she’ll see Tikki again. It could be months, or years.

“I’m sorry, Chat,” Marinette holds him closer, tucking his head under her chin. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He breaks down, sobbing into her chest, and all she can do is kiss the top of his head and lovingly stroke his hair. A small part of her wishes she could tell him, but what good would it do now? The lady he loves is no more.

Marinette lets Chat cry himself out. She gently dries his tears with tissues. She offers him hot drinks and food but he just shakes his head, curling up at the end of her bed, like a real lost stray.

“Stay here tonight, chaton,” she says, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. He simply nods and falls asleep at her feet. Marinette tries to succumb to slumber, but she spends most of the night tossing and turning and checking on Chat. She wants to be there, in case he has bad dreams.

She eventually drifts off, spent by the events of the day. Something warm and familiar smelling cocoons her body, and she relaxes into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

When Marinette wakes up, Chat is snuggled into her side. She smiles—glad to see his face looks peaceful. She slips slowly out of bed so as not to wake him, and goes downstairs to greet her parents. She takes breakfast back up on her tray, explaining she has some last minute studying to do.

Chat is still asleep when she returns. Marinette gently wakes him, shaking his shoulder.

“You need to get up, chaton. I’ve got to go to school soon.”

The mention of school makes him jerk awake, and he sleepily accepts the hot chocolate and croissant.

“You can come visit,” she suddenly says, putting down her mug. “If you ever need to talk, or if you feel lonely.”

“Thanks, princess,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

* * *

 

It’s Nino’s seventeenth birthday that weekend, and Marinette almost cancels last minute—the last thing she wants to do is party. Alya personally comes around and drags her out.

“Hey, I’m the one who should be wallowing!” she exclaims, poking her friend in the ribs. “My blog went defunct overnight! No one seems to have any news of Ladybug. I should be crying my pretty eyes out, but we got to make the effort for Nino, right?”

“Yeah,” Marinette says, glumly. She hasn’t even made much effort with her dress, just some skinny black jeans and a sheer, silver top. Alya looks stunning in an orange jumpsuit and is even wearing heels. Marinette grins and pokes her friend back. “Trying to impress someone, are we?”

The party is at Nino’s house. His parents have promised to clear off until 1AM, and his mother has put on a lovely spread. Marinette doesn’t feel like eating or drinking, even though Alya has bought them some bright purple alcopops.

“Marinette!” Adrien is the first to greet them when they walk into the house, and the pigtailed girl squeaks as her crush is suddenly hugging her tightly. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“A-A-Adrien?” Marinette stutters, and Alya whoops beside her.

“Wow, someone is already tanked!”

“Adrien!” the birthday boy prizes him away from Marinette with a scowl. “Sorry, man. He can’t pace himself at all, he’s only had a couple of beers.”

“It’s okay!” Marinette says, but she’s worried about Adrien, watching as he staggers away to the couch, head between his hands.

“Happy birthday, dude!” Alya grins, handing over their present. “Are you DJ-ing tonight?”

“All set up,” Nino grins, accepting the gift. “Thanks, ladies. Grab yourself some food and relax.”

* * *

All their classmates arrive, and no one can quite believe that the golden boy is already drunk as a skunk. They tease him good-naturedly, but after a few hours, Marinette feels the need to intervene. She isn’t enjoying herself anyway, despite the drink she’s consumed to try and get in the mood, and it’s a good excuse to leave early.

“I’m going to take Adrien home,” Marinette says quietly to Nino and Alya in-between songs. “His dad might not even know he’s here. I don’t think he should drink anymore…”

“Normally I would protest, but I think he’s not right today,” Nino sighs, rubbing his neck. “He seemed really down as soon as he arrived. I think he was trying to get drunk.”

“I’ve called a cab,” Marinette says, shrugging on her jacket. “I’ll make sure he gets home safely.”

* * *

“Mariiiinetteeeee….!” Adrien is like a limpet the whole car journey home, clinging to her. She’s never felt so hot in her life, and when she tries to get out at her house, Adrien follows her.

“What are you doing?” she gasps, but the cab has already driven off.

“I wanna stay with you, Mari,” he says, looking like a child. “I don’t wanna go home.”

Adrien pulls her into another hug, this time lifting her off her feet, and she cries out in shock. He holds her like she weighs nothing, and spins her around. When he sets her down, the alcohol suddenly hits her, and she feels woozy. When he leans down to kiss her, all she can do is hopelessly clutch at his neck, and hope not to fall over.

Marinette’s wanted this so long, and now it’s finally happened, she can’t quite believe it. She’s never tried drugs before, but she imagines this is what it must feel like: the sudden dizzying high, the tingles zipping all the way down to her toes and her heart pounding, fit to burst.

She blanks out how they reach her bedroom, but suddenly they are there, and they can’t rip each other's clothes off fast enough. Adrien keeps kissing every bare part of skin that becomes revealed, his mouth hot and hungry. Marinette feels desirable for the first time in her life. The musk of his aftershave and sweat as he removes his shirt makes her feel light-headed. Her hands are shaking as she removes his belt, and he helps her as they stumble around in the dark.

Suddenly, she’s lying back on the chaise-lounge, naked from the waist down, her blouse open a few buttons. Marinette feels numb, and she’s not sure if it’s the adrenaline, or the alcohol, or both. She’s relieved when she hears the tear of foil, because she’s not on birth control and she doesn’t keep anything like that in her room. Her stomach flips, because her first time is going to be with the love of her life, and a small part of her wonders, _did he plan this? Or are guys always prepared, just in case?_

“Mari,” he says, and he kisses her neck. “Are you okay? Is this…okay?”

She doesn’t even think before giving her consent, because she loves him so much, and has been ready for this moment for such a long time. Sure, she had hoped they would date before this stage, and that the situation would be slightly more romantic, but beggars can’t be choosers, right?

Adrien moves on top of her, and even in the dark, her body naturally fits to give way to him. She holds on the chaise-lounge with both hands, terrified of falling off. She waits for the pain, but it doesn’t happen, and in fact, she can’t really feel a thing. Adrien is gasping above her, holding onto her hips, and although she can feel him thrust, she feels strangely removed from it all. All she worries about is keeping her balance.

Only a few moments later, Adrien has slumped against her, panting heavily. She chews her lip, wondering if this is normal for a first time. She’ll have to ask Alya about it later.

“Sorry,” Adrien says, against her neck, kissing her sloppily. “Sorry…I couldn’t…”

“It’s okay,” she says, happy that, even though she didn’t feel much, at least the boy she loves is happy. That’s enough.

* * *

Or so she thinks. But a week later, she hasn’t heard from Adrien at all, and Marinette realises she’s made a huge mistake.

“I was just a one night stand, Alya,” she cries to her best friend, over the phone. “I didn’t think he was like this!”

“I’m going to kill him,” Alya says, her voice like granite. “I swear to god, girl, I’m going to turn up at that mansion and neuter him.”

“M-maybe he doesn’t remember what happened?” Marinette hiccups, rubbing her arm. “He was really drunk.”

“Bullshit,” Alya hisses. “You said he couldn’t look you in the eye in the morning.”

“Yeah, but…” Marinette trails off, remembering how mortifying it had been. Adrien had passed out on the chaise-lounge, so she had covered him with a blanket. She had tried to sleep in her own bed, but it was impossible. She heard him wake, hours later, and they had exchanged some awkward words before he snuck out the back door.

“Lemme talk to Nino,” Alya hums. “He’ll know what to do.”

“No!” Marinette gasps. “I don’t want anyone else to know. It’s embarrassing!”

“I’m going to kill him,” Alya mutters again.

* * *

 

Chat visits one night, and she thinks he wants to talk about Ladybug. They discuss the latest rumours for a while, until suddenly the black cat embraces her.

“What’s wrong, princess?” he asks. “You don’t seem yourself.”

She keeps it simple: a boy that she was in love with has broken her heart, and is now ignoring her. Marinette tries to stay strong, but soon she’s crying again. Chat keeps her in his arms, and this time it’s him that watches over her troubled sleep.

* * *

Two weeks pass, and Marinette feels herself fall into deep despair. She’s not in the same class as Adrien anymore, and on one hand, she’s grateful, because she doesn’t have to face him everyday. On the other hand, when she does bump into him in the corridor, he ducks his head and averts his eyes.

She no longer feels desirable—in fact, she feels the complete opposite. She’s given her first time to someone who doesn’t even care about her, or respects her enough to give her the time of day. Marinette battles with it: some days it’s her fault, for not calling him another taxi, for not dropping him home first, for not leaving him at the party. Other days, she blames him: for making her fall in love in the first place, for taking advantage of her crush, for taking pleasure from her and not returning it.

She finds a handwritten note wedged into her locker.

_I’m so sorry. I’m leaving for Milan soon. I think it’ll be better without me here._

_Adrien x_

* * *

He departs school without a fuss. Nino is upset, wishing the situation had turned out differently.

“He can’t remember much about that night,” he confesses to Marinette, one day during lunch. Alya huffs, mumbling about excuses under her breath.

“I believe him,” Nino says, his brown eyes serious. “I know what happened to you was really shitty, Marinette. He had to ask me how he got to yours in the first place: he was really confused. I had to…fill him in. That’s why he wrote the note. He couldn’t face you personally.”

“Alya!” Marinette exclaims. “I told you not to say anything!”

“I’m sorry girl,” her best friend at least, looks embarrassed. “But he had to know what he did to you. Or rather, what he didn’t do!”

Marinette throws down the remainder of her lunch, and swings her leg over the bench, ignoring her friends’ shouts to stop. She heads home, hot and angry tears stinging her face.

* * *

Chat visits that night, having to peel back the blankets, stuffed toys and bedcovers to find her. She’s trying to hide from the world and block it out. But she’s secretly relieved he’s visited. Chat can comfort her, without knowing the shame she feels.

They don’t even speak. Instead, she lies on his chest, flushed face against his cool leather as his claws gently stroke through her hair. It’s relaxing, and she feels safe in this little cocoon they’ve made: just two broken-hearted teens healing each other. He kisses the top of her head, and it reminds her of the similar kiss she gave him, the night Ladybug disappeared. She can’t believe how much has changed since then.

“Can I ask you something, princess?” Chat’s voice rumbles under her ear and she giggles.

“What, kitty?” she asks, curious.

“Could you ever hate me?”

The question is so unexpected that Marinette props herself up on his chest to look into his luminous green eyes. Sad eyes, since that day.

“Never,” she tells him, kissing his cheek. “No matter what happens.”

“Thank you, princess,” he says, with such relief that she wants to cry again. He aims to peck her cheek, but she moves, and he ends up kissing her lips. They both pause, and Marinette expects to find it strange. But, she feels no reason to pull away, and although Chat looks surprised at first, he leans forward, his hands slipping around her back.

They exchange some soft kisses. Marinette feels a fluttering in her heart that she had never expected to feel again. She likes the way Chat looks under her, his messy hair splayed over her pillow, his pupils dilated to dark slits. Her fingers move to her shirt and she pops the first few buttons. Chat swallows when he sees she isn’t wearing a bra. She leans down and he tilts his head, suckling at her breast with a purr that ripples through her. Marinette pets his hair, delighting in the feeling of his tongue dragging across her sensitive nipple. _This is how is should feel_ , she thinks, warmth spreading between her legs.

Chat grows greedy, pulling back her shirt to reveal her shoulders. He palms her breasts and nuzzles her neck with a keening noise in the back of her throat. His teeth scrape against the skin and Marinette shivers, the need suddenly buzzing in her blood. Who knew Chat could do this to her?

She feels him growing underneath her and she can’t help but rub against him, delighting in the spark that twists deep inside her. His breathing grows heavy, and suddenly they switch, so he's top.

“Princess,” he says, his voice wispy. “I think…maybe we should…”

Marinette swallows, and looks away. A single tear tracks down her cheek.

“It’s fine. If you don’t want to…”

Chat groans, and dips down so they are forehead to forehead. “I do want to, Marinette. You have no idea how much I want to! But…are you ready for this?”

She smiles, and cups his cheek. Her kitty is sweet, concern glowing in his eyes.

“It’s okay,” she says, nodding her head. “I want to.”

He still hesitates, so she pulls him down for a fiery kiss that can leave him in no doubt how she’s feeling. Chat gives a small growl, tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth, and she giggles.

“I don’t have anything with me,” he confesses.

“The bottom drawer of my desk,” she says, and he slinks down the ladders to fetch it.

* * *

 

Marinette feels a blush settle over her cheeks, glad that after her check-up at the doctors, she decided to invest in some protection.

Chat returns, and she expects him to open the foil immediately, but instead he places it beside them. He kisses her gently on the lips, before trailing his mouth down her body.

“Chaton?” she questions, suddenly nervous, because in her limited experience of sex, there isn’t another step. The black cat kisses her exposed stomach, and skips over her shorts to kiss her thighs and knees.

She bites her lip, because she’s unsure of what he’s doing. When he works his way back up to her shorts, he asks permission before unzipping them. Marinette is trembling before he even touches her. She’s suddenly a mess, even though she trusts Chat with her life.

He goes ever so slowly, inching her shorts down her legs and helping her to kick them off. He kisses the skin just above the band of her panties, his leather-clad hands skimming the flesh of her thighs.

“Still okay, princess?” and she nods, closing her eyes because she just wants him to get on with it now before she chickens out.

But then, he does something incredible. He kisses her through her underwear, and the heat of his mouth almost makes her buck against him. Her swallow is so loud she’s sure he hears it, but he doesn’t say anything, continuing to plant soft kisses against her panties until she feel like she's sucking her oxygen.

Finally, tenderly and slowly, he slips the cotton down her thighs, and this time his mouth is flush against her. Marinette can’t help but gasp, and her fingers thread through his hair.

He nuzzles her softly, and his tongue trails up her skin. It’s rough, like a real cat’s tongue, and she jerks, a gasp bubbling from her lips.

Chat’s eyes flick up to check on her, but he doesn’t move his mouth. He tastes her again, and Marinette feels herself sink further back into the bed, as if boneless. His thumb brushes over something that makes her cry out and clamp her thighs against his head. A rumble vibrates through his chest, and she feels it through his mouth. Her breathing is laboured now, and when he strokes her again with his thumb, coupled with the lick of his tongue, Marinette is gone. She clenches and shudders, crying out something illegible. Chat draws back, and she remembers the time she freewheeled down a hill on her bike. The pedals were whipping around too fast for her feet, and the bike was out of control. That’s how Marinette feels now as her orgasm surges through her: her back arching, her mouth parting in pleasure.

When she opens her eyes, Chat is watching her, enraptured. She can’t speak, so she simply pulls him down for a hug, and his hardness bumps against her leg under his suit. She berates herself, realising what a hypocrite she is. Marinette reaches for his suit and he whimpers a little as she unzips it, moving carefully as she reaches the bottom.

She’s surprised at the solidness of it, as her hand touches him. She knows the phrase ‘boner’ but she had never imagined it would be this strong. Chat gasps as she strokes him, and it comes naturally even though it’s her first time touching a boy. He suddenly grabs her wrist, begging her to stop. Marinette is confused and embarrassed, but she realises upon seeing his face that it’s _too good_. She didn’t know there was such a thing.

She watches as he struggles with the foil, clearly not an expert, which makes her feel relieved. He’s gentle as he approaches her, taking the time to place a soft kiss against her lips.

“Are you sure, princess?” Chat asks, once again.

“Yes,” she breathes, and she watches with interest as he slides in. It’s her first time seeing it, and this time, she feels it. Marinette exclaims a little at the sudden sensation, the feeling of being filled. Chat goes slowly, kneeling over her but drawing closer to her face as he sinks deeper.

“Oh-oh-oh,” Marinette gasps rapidly, because _this_ is what she expected, and it’s a hard thing to describe. Chat slides his hands up her knees, and he guides her to wrap her legs around his back. She’s flexible (a heroine perk), and is able to cross her ankles in the air, making the black cat hiss in delight.

“Oh God, Marinette,” he puffs out, and she’s glad that she can see his face. Surely watching your partner during sex is half of the fun? She feels empowered, watching the pleasure ripple across his face, the beads of sweat trickle from under his hair. He hasn’t even moved yet.

“Chat,” she smiles, and cups his cheeks. They kiss, tongues dancing, and he eases out and back in. Marinette groans into his mouth, acutely aware of him inside her.

“Princess,” he murmurs, and it’s clear that all he sees is her. His leather fingers link through hers, and he raises her hands above her head, allowing her blouse to gape open. He pinches her nipple with his lips as he thrusts into her, and Marinette feels overwhelmed at the sensation. She’s panting, sweat lashing down her neck and back, and Chat increases the pace. She’s embarrassed at the wanton sounds erupting from her mouth, but she can’t help it. The black cat laps them up, a deep purr in the back of his throat.

“Mari…” he groans, slumping over her, his teeth sinking into the soft skin of her neck, making her jump against him. His hands move to caress the underside of her thighs, before slipping under her buttocks and squeezing. It deeps the penetration, and Marinette feels something trigger inside her. She squeezes her legs tighter around Chat, and he groans in response, tugging at a nipple between his teeth. It’s the spark that causes the explosion, and Marinette sees white before convulsing around him. She feels Chat follow her with a tremor, before collapsing against her in a sweaty heap.

They peel apart with a giggle, the stickiness of it all surprising her. Chat scoops her up and carries her down the ladder, which she's grateful for, her legs wobbly. She cleans up in the bathroom quickly, so she can return to his embrace. They fit around each other naturally and still naked, his nose tracking the scent of her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE ~
> 
> Drinking at house parties in the UK and Europe is pretty normal for sixteen/seventeen year olds. I'm not advocating this in any way, it's just the culture we grow up with.
> 
> Don't listen to gossip or rumours about 'your first time'. This will be different depending on yourself, your partner, and how you're feeling at the time. Mari's first time is based completely on my own: it's very possible to not feel pain (or anything at all) if you're nervous/inexperienced/had alcohol. 
> 
> In saying that, your first time (or any sex) can hurt, so try and aim for:
> 
> a) having a partner that you can trust  
> b) someone that will care about your needs and comfort  
> c) someone that won't ignore you the next day
> 
> Every experience is completely different, which is what I've tried to illustrate here. You can have bad sex and good sex with the same person. It all comes down to the mood and how much prep there has been. Just because it's consensual, doesn't guarantee an automatic good time! ^^;
> 
> Stay safe and have fun, kittens!


	6. Chapter 6

_Present day…_

Marinette groans as the alarm beeps and she gropes for her mobile phone, swiping it off. Chat follows the source of heat, rubbing his nose against her shoulder and she giggles, pushing him off.

“Some of us have work to go to,” she yawns, pushing back the covers. Chat bats at her blindly, trying to pull her back into an embrace, but she squirms free with a laugh.

“I need to go shower,” Marinette says, flicking through her wardrobe. She’s completely naked but comfortable in front of her partner, even as she feels him watching her.

“Want to join me?” she asks coyly, a dress draped over her arm. Chat blinks at her, his eyes still blurry with sleep.

“I’ve got to get going…” he says, hoarsely.

“Okay. See you around, chaton,” she wiggles her fingers at him and leaves the bedroom, throwing a little wave into her walk. Marinette smirks as she hears him gasp into the pillow.

* * *

Chat flees to his apartment, to quickly take care of his morning boner before work. He keeps playing Marinette’s words over in his mind, and it’s not just the teasing taunt of her voice, it’s the indication that she wants to see him shower, without his clothes on—and without his mask on. His mind spins at the possibilities, and he knows it’s too soon for that. They’re still making up for lost time, and he knows an early revelation would be the nail in the coffin for their relationship, professional or otherwise.

Adrien jerks off quickly in the shower, a necessity more than anything else, because he’s going to face her in less than an hour and he can’t stop thinking about her cute butt as she leaves the bedroom that morning. It wouldn’t quite do to greet her with a tent in his pants.

“Marinette…” he groans, the cool shower washing away the evidence of his ardour. He towel dries his hair quickly, selects a fresh, white shirt and black slacks, and inhales an espresso.

He can do this.

* * *

Marinette hums happily as she enters the studio. It’s been a _while_ since she’s slept with someone, and a long time since it was so enjoyable. Her body is sore, (but in a good way) and she relishes the slight bruises on her thighs, and the sensitivity of her nipples against her bra.

Even with the catalogue launch just around the corner she doesn’t feel stressed, but instead powers through her workload, blocking out the panic of the staff around her. She’s still grinning when Gabriel Agreste enters the room to check on their progress, and she isn’t flustered at all when he wants to rearrange the order of some of the walks.

“And what about you, Marinette?” he asks. “Have you decided what you will wear?”

“Oh, I haven’t really thought about it,” she replies cheerfully.

“Well, it’s your first show,” Gabriel says. “I would imagine you want to wear something dazzling while introducing the collection.”

“I…wait! I need to introduce it…on stage?” Marinette asks.

“Of course,” Gabriel states, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re put all this hard work into it. It can only be you.”

He glances around at the room and nods with satisfaction. “Everything seems in order. We’ll have rehearsal on Friday night. That gives you to the end of the week to create your own outfit.”

Marinette watches him leave the studio, and puts her head in her hands. Her happy bubble has finally burst.

* * *

Adrien tries to ‘bump’ into Marinette all day, but he’s tangled up in meeting after meeting, and then fittings for the catalogue launch. They’ve decided to keep the focus on the new womenswear range, so he’s happily not modelling, but of course, he has to show up wearing the newest line.

He knocks on her studio door, seeing the light is still on, despite the rest of the corridor being dark. She’s working at a sewing machine, her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth as she concentrates.

Adrien opens the door slowly, not wanting to startle her and ruin whatever she is working on.

“Evening,” he says, and she looks up with a tired smile.

“Hey,” she replies.

“All settled in the flat?” he asks, casually, despite the fact he knows how settled she is, having slept beside her last night.

“Nearly,” she says, stretching her arms, causing the material of her dress to bunch around her breasts. “Still waiting on the bed and a few things to arrive. Delay at the warehouse or something!”

“I see,” Adrien nods, drawing closer. “What are you working on? I thought the collection was all finished.”

“It’s for me,” Marinette sighs, regarding the white material. “Your father wants me on stage to present the new women’s line. A LBD isn’t going to cut it.”

“Aha,” Adrien grins. “It’s pretty material. Is it going to be all white?”

“No, no,” Marinette laughs, “I don’t want to look like a bride! There will be other colours. I’m just making it up as I go along.”

Adrien presses his lips together at the bride comment, unsure how to take it.

“It’ll be great, whatever you do,” he laughs, hands in his pockets. “You’re very talented, Marinette.”

She blinks, and then breaks into a soft smile. “Thanks, Adrien. See you tomorrow?”

“Goodnight.”

* * *

A mere twenty-four hours later, Marinette has lost every semblance of being carefree.

During a board meeting, they had started to discuss ideas for the men’s autumn line. Marinette asked her intern, Sophie, to grab her sketchbook from the studio, to show an example of a design she had in mind. The girl returned, rattled, unable to find it, and despite returning with her to turn the place upside down, there was no sign. The meeting continued, but Marinette couldn’t concentrate. There was years of work and inspiration collected in those pages, and she felt physically sick that it might have been misplaced.

“Hey, Marinette,” Adrien pulls her aside after the meeting. “Why not go check your apartment on your lunch break? I’m sure it was misplaced when you moved. I need to go home and change for my next meeting, and I’ll check the spare room while I’m there.”

“Thank you, Adrien!” she says gratefully, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “I’m sure it will turn up…”

“It will, don’t worry,” the blonde flashes her his award-winning smile, and she basks in his glow.

* * *

But it’s not in the flat, and not in the studio either, even though she searches several more times.

“I’m so sorry, Marinette,” Sophie is distraught, wringing her hands. “What if it was collected with all the scrap pieces of paper? I could never forgive myself if I’ve lost it!”

“It’s not your fault, Sophie,” Marinette says, touching her arm. “It’s my notebook, and my responsibility. I should have been more careful.” 

She tries not to think about it, deciding to work on her dress instead, but she is so agitated and distracted that she manages to catch the material in the sewing machine’s needle, causing the fine fabric to snag.

“Okay, enough!” Marinette sighs with frustration, running her hands through her hair. “Time to go home.”

* * *

The sky opens just as she steps out onto the street, a cloudburst soaking her in seconds. Marinette doesn’t even try to run for cover. Her apartment is only five minutes away, and although she doesn’t have a jacket or umbrella, she lets the wetness numb her skin. She sloshes through the puddles dejectedly, her hair slick to her face, willing the day to be over already.

“Princess!” Chat lands before her, his blonde hair plastered to his face, his leather suit dripping. “What are you doing? You’re going to be ill if you stay out here!”

Marinette looks up, and it’s hard to tell where the rain starts and where her tears end.

“Chat,” she smiles weakly. “You really are my knight-in-shining armour, aren’t you?”

“Come here,” he says, scooping her up against his chest and using his baton, propels them into the air. Marinette shields her face in the crook of his neck against the wet, and his familiar scent calms her.

“My window is open,” she tells him, and he nods, scaling the building front, and pushing the glass open further so they can slip in.

Chat keeps her in his arms as they drip all over the floor, and he heads straight to the bathroom, placing her on the edge of the bath. He grabs a fresh towel from the rack and helps her to dry her hair. Then, he leans over and flips the hot water on, squeezing a fair amount of vanilla and lavender bubble bath into the tub.

“Come on, princess, out of those wet clothes,” he says, making her lift her arms so he can drag the wet dress over her head. He plops it in the sink, and wraps another clean towel around her body when she starts to shiver. He’s too much of gentleman to ogle her in her wet underthings.

Chat noses his way around the toiletries on the shelf until he comes across make-up wipes. He kneels before Marinette, and gently removes the smudged eyeliner and mascara from her face.

She swallows, a single tear trickling from her cheek and he makes a sad noise in the back of his throat at the sight.

“Bad day?” he asks. Marinette simply nods, and she stands up, starting to remove her underwear. Chat coughs and takes a towel for his own hair; the suit is magically dry.

“I’ll go make you something to eat, princess,” he says.

“Wait…” Marinette says, grabbing his arm. “You must be cold, too. Why don’t we bathe together?”

* * *

 

Chat falters at the offer, pulling the towel from his hair. “Princess, I would love too, but…”

“I won’t look,” Marinette says, climbing into the bath. She scoots forward, knees against her chest, her long dark hair spilling over her back. “There’s plenty of room.”

“A-Are you sure?” he asks, stuttering.

“Pawsitive.”

“O-okay…” Chat exhales, and removes the ring from his finger, placing it on the counter with a clink. She has her eyes closed, and he slips in behind her as carefully as he can. His long legs rest beside hers, and the warm water is wonderful over his tense muscles.

“You can lean back, princess,” Adrien says softly, hyper-aware of the fact he is now sharing a bath with Marinette. She moves back gently, the water waving over their bodies. He places his hands on her shoulders and guides her so she’s resting against his chest.

“Mmm,” she says, her body relaxing. “This is nice. I’ve never shared a bath before.”

“Me neither,” Adrien admits, stroking the soft, pale skin of her arm. He’s so much more tan in comparison, and she takes his free hand, examining it.

He kisses her neck to distract her, and Marinette gives a breathy sigh. She reaches for a shower gel and passes it back to him. Adrien grins, squeezing the liquid into his hands. Lathering, he runs the scented froth over her shoulders and back, and she tips her head forward to give him access. He takes care to massage her properly, feeling the little knots of tension under her muscles.

“I didn’t know you were good at this, too, chaton…” Marinette says, clearly enthralled.

“Too?” Adrien asks cheekily. Her back straightens, and he kisses her spine. “As well as what else, princess?”

“Puns, of course,” she retorts. He chuckles, his fingers sweeping under her legs and she squeals, batting him away from her ticklish spot.

“I don’t think that’s what you were referring to,” he teases, and after pouring more gel onto his hands, he lathers and skirts her sides, soaping her breasts.

“Chat!” she gasps, but she doesn’t shake him off. In fact, she leans further back into his chest, head tilted, eyes closed.

He nuzzles her neck, scooping up water to wash away the suds and grips her breasts more firmly, his thumb stroking a nipple. She makes a noise in the back of her throat.

“I thought baths were supposed to be relaxing,” she sighs, and her bare ass shifts against him, making his cock twitch to attention. “But this is just frustrating me even more.”

“Would you like me to fix that, princess?” Adrien purrs into her ear, his hands skimming under her thighs in the water. “After all, I am rather _good_ , as you say.”

“Well stop boasting and do something about it then,” Marinette tells him, leaning forward to pull the plug.

“Yes, m’am,” he says, sliding out of the bath. She keeps her eyes closed, and he lifts her out the tub, leaning down to kiss her as he helps her dry. Marinette’s skin is flushed pink from the warm water, and she smells incredible.

He leaves her to towel dry her hair while he quickly rubs himself down, already aching with need. It never fails to amaze him, the power this woman has over his body.

“There’s an eyemask in the cupboard,” she says, dropping the towel. “Can you give it to me?”

Adrien rummages and finds the black, polka dot mask. He slips it over her head and she adjusts it, her lip quirking. He picks her up, kicking the door open, and she giggles at his eagerness.

“You look edible, princess,” Adrien tells her, as he sets her down on the mattress. He roams over her body, kissing her once more. “Which is perfect, because I’m _ravenous_.”

Marinette flushes deeper, highlighting the freckles that are scattered across her skin. She reaches out, and finds his face, pulling him down for another kiss. This one isn’t gentle, but fiery and fraught, both of them wrestling for dominance. They part, panting, and Adrien runs his tongue over the cut on his bottom lip, pleasure lancing down to his toes.

“Chat, I just really need to be fucked, okay?” she breathes, fingers nestled in his hair. “Don’t take it slow.”

His heart stutters and he almost loses his confidence. “Princess…?”

“I just don’t want to think, okay? So unless you want me to be screaming someone else’s name, you better distract me right _now_.”

Adrien feels the possessiveness coil in his stomach. He has no idea who Marinette is referring to, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to allow her to think of another man right now. A lover from her past, or someone she’s met recently? He runs through every male colleague in his head, bristling.

“Chat,” she whines, bucking her hips against him. “Unless you want to be a nice new rug, you better move right now—!”

He swallows, and before he has time to think about it, grabs her arms and turns her around so she’s lying on her stomach. She gives a squeak of surprise, and then he’s dipping his fingers between her buttocks, and stroking the little of bundle of nerves he knows so well.

“F-fuck…” Marinette raises her hips, trying to get closer to his touch, but he gathers her damp hair in his free hand and yanks her back down to the bed.

“Bad girl, Mari,” he whispers in her ear, and she breathes heavily. “Do you want to be fucked or not?”

She swallows and gasps. “I do! Please, Chat.”

“Good,” he smirks, tugging her lobe between his teeth. “Now, let me hear you beg prettily.”

“Oh my God,” Marinette gasps into the mattress, jumping against his fingers as he circles her clit.

“Just me, princess,” he purrs, and although it’s the oldest line in the book, he can’t resist.

His claws don’t allow him to penetrate, so for the first time, he slips an ungloved finger inside her.

“Chat,” she cries out, burying her face into a pillow, and he leans down, parting her cheeks so he can lick her gleaming slit.

“On your knees, princess,” he orders, lightly tapping her ass, and she’s quick to move, hugging the pillow. He can taste her better at this angle and he does, allowing the appreciative moan to vibrate against her skin, making her gurgle.

He uses two fingers this time, easing them in and out with a wonderful slick sound. Chat sucks his fingers before slipping them back in.

“I was right, Marinette. You are edible. In fact, I could eat you out all night.”

She whimpers at this, and he leans down to her face, letting his cock slid against her.

“Well, princess? Are you tired of begging?”

He can’t see her eyes, but her lips clamp together, before she gaps, “Please, Chat!”

“Please, what?” he taunts, circling her clit idly, spreading her wetness.

“Please,” Marinette sobs. “Please, fuck me, Chat!”

“As you command,” he grins, and teases his head against her entrance, groaning at the wetness covering his skin. He pulls on the foil quickly, and sinks into her, his hand tracing down her spine.

“Ahh!” she moans, and Adrien rears back, slamming into her again.

* * *

Marinette had always believed Chat’s allure came from his suit, but now she realised how _wrong_ she was.

It was still Chat’s voice that whispered in her ear, and it was still his scent that clung to them: the familiar scent of his sweat. But this bare skin was new: as were the fingers probing her and teasing her; the warm chest against her back and the strong, thick thighs gripping hers.

She pushes his buttons deliberately, because she isn’t in the mood for sweet caresses tonight. And of all the men she knows, Chat is the one she trusts the most in the world. He’s the only one she’ll slip an eyemask on for. And when she begs Chat not to take it slow, she expects him to laugh and go against her wishes.

What happens next floors her. He’s always been fond of a little dirty talk, but he’s never asked her to beg before. Without her eyes, her other senses are ramped up the max, and when his bare finger slips inside her for the first time, she can’t believe this is happening. She's already sensitive from the bath, but every time Chat touches her, it’s like being blessed. She relinquishes herself to it completely, bending to his will. And when he finally fucks her, Marinette is already gone. It’s all she can do to bite the pillow and stop herself from screaming the building down. It would be difficult to explain to the police why Paris’ most loved superhero is currently screwing her brains out.

“I’m going to move you now, princess,” Chat croons into her ear, and she realises her thighs are shaking uncontrollably. Marinette allows him to tilt her onto her side, and he slips in behind. She’s amazed how hot his body is outside the suit. He makes sure the pillow is tucked under her head, and moves the sweaty strands of hair from her neck, pressing a kiss at her nape.

Then, Chat lifts up her leg, and eases back inside. Marinette gasps at the angle: it’s so deep, and the whole position itself is extremely intimate. Evidence of Chat’s change in the last ten years is now flush against her back: his chest is solid.

“Ahh!” she cries out as Chat picks up the pace again, each thrust making her whole body rock. She’s embarrassed at the noises coming out of her mouth, but she can’t hold back any more. Every stroke inside her is kindle to the fire in her veins. Every other thought has been bleached from her mind, and all she can think of is Chat: inside her and around her. It’s the most wonderful prison, and she never wants to leave.

He pulls at her hair, tilting her face so he can kiss her, and she’s crying into his mouth as he pounds into her from behind. Marinette’s so full of him, and every time his balls smack against her, she thinks she might die.

“I’m so close…” she gasps, and she feels Chat grin against her mouth.

“You feel _so good_ , princess. So tight and wet…”

She trembles at his sultry voice in her ear. Without her eyes, she’s at the total mercy of whims and it makes her feel both helpless and adored.

“C-chat, I-I…”

He tightens his hand around her thigh, raising her leg even higher, and it sends her toppling over the edge. Marinette sobs into the pillow, the pleasure flooding through her almost painful. She hears Chat gasp as she tightens around him so forcefully, and after a few thrusts, he seems to follow, burying his head into the crook of her neck, making a keening noise at the back of his throat.

* * *

Adrien smiles down at Marinette. She’s passed out already, and she seems properly relaxed, at last.

He retrieves his ring from the bathroom and slips it on. A grumpy Plagg immediately appears.

“Have you finished rutting?” he enquirers. “I’d like some cheese, now.”

“Fine, but be quiet, okay?” Adrien rolls his eyes, hoping the baker’s daughter will have some type of cheese in the fridge. Luckily, it seems Marinette’s parents have been by, and Plagg demolishes several cheese rolls while Adrien takes a long drink of water. He can just spy Marinette through the open bedroom door, still sleeping soundly, and his heart clenches. In the deepest, darkest recess of his mind, he growls: _mine_. 

“Something smells familiar…” Plagg says, cramming another roll into his mouth before zipping towards the bedroom.

“Plagg, no!” Adrien hisses, mortified, but the little black god ignores both him and Marinette, pulling open a drawer on her dressing table.

“What are you doing?” Adrien demands, terrified Marinette will wake up, but a soft snore reassures him she’s still sleeping.

“It is what I thought!” Plagg exclaims, tugging something from the drawer and zooming back to the kitchen, dropping the item on the counter. Adrien scowls, and gently shuts the bedroom door before confronting his kwami.

“What have I told you about stealing other people’s property?” Adrien grumbles, trying to force Plagg apart from the little black box.

“But, look!” the small black cat says, pointing at the familiar red design. Adrien releases the kwami, and swallows.

“It…can’t be.”

“It is!” Plagg replies gleefully, flipping open the lid. “She’s dormant, but I can still sense her.”

Adrien braces himself on the counter, gazing down wordlessly at the pair of round, scarlet studs. The earrings of Ladybug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone says 'the cat is out of the bag!' I will personally hunt you down and beat you with a wet fish.


	7. Chapter 7

Before she even opened her eyes, Marinette knew she had a stupid grin on her face. She was disoriented for a moment, wondering why the world was black. Then she remembered the eyemask, and slipped her finger under the silk, before pausing to ask: "Chat? Did you transform back?"

Her hand reached out, curious as to whether she would feel skin or suit. But the space next to her was empty, the sheet cool, indicating he had already left. Marinette tugged the mask down to her neck, squinting at the brightness of the room. The rain had cleared at least. There was no sign of the black cat, and she wandered into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle. She opened the fridge, noting the lack of cheese rolls. She was disappointed, she realised, as she made tea. Anxiety niggled at her as she tore apart some bread beneath her fingers. The last time Chat had left without a goodbye, she didn't see him for years.

* * *

He had been restless that night.

“It might be a while before I can visit again,” he told her as they settled down to sleep. Marinette had fiddled with the waistband of her underwear, unsure how to respond.

“I’ll miss you,” she offered. His green eyes glowed at this, and he stooped down for another kiss. It lacked the fire of their previous touches: instead it seemed to say _thank you_ , and _forgive me_.

* * *

Marinette was still on edge when she reached the office. She had worn the yellow dress to try and brighten her mood. Luckily, all her staff were busy setting up for the fashion show, so she had the studio to herself. She started to fix her gown, mending the snag from before and covering it with artificial rose petals. The dress was taking shape, and she was excited about the design in a way she hasn’t been excited for a long time.

Marinette lost herself in the dress for hours, her hands becoming one with the fabric and her machine. A knock at her door snapped her back into reality, and she jumped, taking her foot from the pedal.

“Adrien,” she smiled, getting to her feet, plucking loose thread from her dress. “What can I do for…?”

Marinette cut herself off, seeing the familiar pink sketchbook in his outstretched hands.

“I had another look in the spare room,” Adrien explained. “It must have slipped under the bed—”

Marinette tackled him in a hug. “Oh my God, you’re my hero! I can’t believe you found it!”

Adrien’s green eyes were wide as she danced around the studio, book clamped to her chest.

“I’m so happy! There’s so many ideas in here, I would have never remembered them all!”

Marinette stopped, painfully aware that Adrien was watching her, slack-jawed.

“Sorry!” she giggled, returning to his side and leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “How rude, I didn’t even thank you! _Thank you so much_!”

“M-my pleasure,” Adrien blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m glad I found it.”

“I’m never letting it out of my sight again,” Marinette declared, putting the book down next to the sewing machine.

“Your dress is coming along well,” Adrien observed, looking down at the material draped over the table.

“Yes, I’m close,” Marinette nodded. “I have a soft spot for red…”

Adrien immediately cleared his throat and stepped back. “Well, I have a meeting to go to! Better dash.”

She watched as he scuttled from the room and closed to door with more force than necessary.

“Seems a little out of sorts today,” Marinette wondered aloud. “I hope he’s not getting sick…”

* * *

Adrien felt the flush coat his skin, burning all the way down his chest. The heat under his white shirt blossomed like spilt coffee. He rushed back to his office, and closed the door, leaning against the wooden frame to take a deep breath.

“It’s her,” he whispered. “Ladybug. I was just talking to Ladybug.”

“You’ve done more than talk to her,” Plagg guffawed, popping out the suit jacket hanging over his chair.

“Shut up,” Adrien groaned, his arm over his eyes. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”

“Oh sure, it’s my fault you slept with Ladybug,” Plagg said, pulling some cheese from the desk drawer. “It’s my fault you visited Marinette as Chat and started that strange relationship with her…”

“Okay, enough!” Adrien hissed, running his hand through his hair. Sweat had collected at the back of his neck. “I get it. I’m a fucking idiot, okay? I make messes, and then I run. Don’t rub it in.”

“Hey, at least it’s not just you,” Plagg mumbled through his cheese. “She didn’t reveal her identity, either. You’re both as bad as each other.

Adrien sighed. After the final battle, when he thought she was gone forever, he had fled to Marinette’s side. They had taken comfort in each other. But now, he knew, that it had been Ladybug herself that had consoled him. But who could blame her for not revealing her identity? His secrets were much darker. Adrien had been Marinette’s first love and first time, and what did he do? Ignored her, and cut her out of his life. As soon as Nino told him, he had tried to make it up to her as Chat. He didn’t have the courage to face her as just Adrien. But just as she was healing, the black cat had disappeared from her life, too. He was lucky she talked to either sides of him at all.

But then again, she was Lady Luck.

* * *

“Adrien?” Marinette tapped on the door. She didn’t often visit his office, but the light had been on and she wanted to say goodnight. “Are you there?”

She’d picked up a little gift for him for finding her notebook. When there was no reply, Marinette pushed open the door, and is taken aback to see the model slumped at his desk. Even from this distance, she could see his white shirt damp with sweat, his blonde hair dark and slick again his head.

“Adrien!” Present abandoned, Marinette clacked around to his side of the desk, and gently tilted his head back. He was burning up under her touch, and his tan skin was sallow. His eyes flickered and he made a noise of discomfort in the back of his throat.

“Mari…?” he asked in confusion, as she began to unbutton his shirt. His head lolled against her chest and she cursed, touching his neck with the back of her knuckles. His was scorching to the touch.

“Adrien?” at that moment, Gabriel opened the door. Marinette froze, and her boss swept his grey eyes over their positions.

“Sir…!” Marinette managed to squeak, despite the fear making her joints stiff. “Adrien has a fever.”

Gabriel immediately drew his phone from his suit pocket. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No, Père,” Adrien coughed, finally opening his eyes. “It’s just a cold. Don’t make a fuss, please.”

“Well, I’ll call your chauffeur. You should go back to the mansion. Nathalie is in Cannes for the film festival, but I’ll tell her to get the first flight…”

Adrien groaned, his head in his hands, and Marinette swallowed.

“I can escort him home, M. Agreste,” she said, her voice reed-thin. “I was just leaving, anyway.”

Gabriel looked at her over the rim of his glasses.

“I just need to go and sleep,” Adrien complained. “I’m fine!”

“Very well,” Gabriel said, pocketing his phone. “Marinette will accompany you home. I want regular reports, please.”

“Yes, sir,” Marinette smiled.

* * *

“You don’t have to do this,” Adrien said, as he sank into the cool leather seats of the limo.

“It’s no problem,” Marinette beamed. “After all, I owe you. And it’s not like I don’t know my way around your apartment.”

The model didn’t put up a fight as Marinette keyed in the pincode and opened the door for him. He immediately fell face-first into his bed, and she laughed at the sight.

“Right, Mr Model, I’m going to leave some clothes here. Please change into them, okay? I’m just going to run to that pharmacy on the corner and grab some things.”

By the time Marinette had returned, Adrien was fast asleep. He had managed to change into his checked pajama shorts, but the t-shirt was rolled into a ball on the floor. No doubt because he was so warm, she observed. Her eyes skirted over his naked chest, noting how his body had changed since their adolescent days—not that teenage Adrien Agreste had been shirtless much. It was a man’s body now, with the broad shoulders and a sharp v-line of his hips. Marinette put these thoughts to the side as she took his temperature, then filled the t-shirt with ice and tucked it under his chin.

She had to wake him up to give him the medicine, and he swallowed it without complaint, instantly falling back asleep. Marinette covered him in a thin sheet after using a damp towel to clean his skin. She mopped the sweat from his brow with a dry cloth, and finally sat down next to him, taking off her heels, and remembering the last time she was in this room.

_“It’s been a long time, Marinette. Can’t you spoil me a little longer?”_

_She blinked at him, before reaching up to stroke his face, the skin untouched by the mask. “Kitty…what is you want?”_

_“You,” he said simply, leaning down to press his lips against hers. She curled around him, her fingers grabbing at his leather-clad shoulders. His claws spanned greedily over her tank top, palming her breasts underneath. Marinette gave a moan in the back of her throat. It wasn’t like she had never considered Chat attractive before; but now…now her little kitten had grown into a black beast of a man._

Shaking her head, Marinette decided to keep busy, and went downstairs to make the rice gruel that her mother always cooked when she was sick. She found a wooden tray, and carried the gruel and the glass of water to Adrien’s room. He slept peacefully, and she knelt beside him, moving the damp hair from his face, and sliding the ice bag to the other side.

“Good, his temperature is coming down,” she sighed. Marinette sent a quick email to her boss to let him know, then tipped her head on the bed, her eyes eventually fluttering shut.

* * *

Adrien was confused when he woke up. When did he get home? He had no recollection of making it to his bedroom, either.

He tilted his head, and noticed the dark hair spread across his sheet. Marinette was kneeling on the floor, clearly exhausted. He felt guilt wash over him and he spotted her heels nearby.

The model’s throat was parched and dry, and he saw the tray on the bedside table. He slowly tried to reach over without startling Marinette, but he was still unsteady and only managed to push the glass further away.

“Hmm?” his partner lifted her head and opened her eyes.

“Oh, you’re awake!” she smiled softly, “Do you want water?”

He nodded dumbly, and she passed him the glass, helping him to sit up. Her fingers on his bare shoulders did little to calm his fever and he shivered as she adjusted the pillows under his head.

“How are you feeling?” Marinette asked, her fingers gently caressing his forehead. “Your temperature has dropped, at least.

“My head hurts,” Adrien admitted. “And I’m still really tired.”

“You’ve been working too hard,” Marinette teased, stroking his brow with tender touches. His closed his eyes, wondering at how her fingertips were chasing away his headache.

“That’s nice,” he whispered, blushing soon after.

Marinette hummed. “It helps, doesn’t it? I’ve made some food too, but you might not feel like it yet. I can re-heat it later.”

Adrien inhaled deeply. “This is what it must be like…when a mother looks after you?”

He heard Marinette’s swallow, and felt the stutter of her fingers, before she continued.

“Yeah,” she replied quietly. “Just rest now, and sleep. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Adrien sighed. “Thanks, princess.”

* * *

Marinette froze for the second time that day. When he stirred, she quickly recommenced stroking his forehead, but her heart was hammering, and all her blood seemed to concentrate into her cheeks.

Only Chat called her princess.

She shook her head, trying to think rationally. It was a common nickname. She had heard the Mayor use it for Chloe, and she was sure Nino had called Alya it once or twice. It was common. Adrien wasn’t feeling well, and that explained the sudden strange affection.

It’s not like there were any other ties, she thought. Yes, they both had blonde hair, but Adrien’s was perfectly styled, whereas Chat’s was wild. Though now, when she looked down at his face, with his hair slicked with sweat, her heart skipped a beat once again.

She remembered that night, not long ago now, when Chat had climbed in this very bedroom window. He had backed her into this very bed. Adrien wouldn’t do such a thing, she knew. It couldn’t be him.

Marinette took a shaky breath. But then, weren’t their absences a coincidence? She’d been too hurt at the time to consider it, but Adrien had left for Milan, and a few weeks later, Chat had left for London.

“These things happen,” she muttered, her free hand trembling as she picked up her phone. She typed in “Adrien Agreste” and “London” into Google, and her eyes widened at the results. Pages and pages of results. Adrien attending fashion shows, Adrien working catwalks, working on ad campaigns. He had been to London, too.

“It can’t be,” Marinette said. But as she looked down at him in the dark, with his eyes closed and hair disheveled, she couldn’t tell. Taking a deep breath, Marinette traced down the bare arm on top of the sheet. Surely, she should be able to tell, if this was the same arm that had embraced her in the bath? The same arm that had wrapped around her waist, and that had pinned her to the bed?

It was impossible to tell. Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears, blocking out any sense. Adrien muttered in his sleep, and turned on his side. The silver ring caught in the light dripping in through the curtains, and Marinette felt as if someone had torn through her stomach. Her touch was fairy-light as she grazed his hand and traced the chunky ring. It felt like the right shape and size, but she couldn’t confirm without taking it off, something she wasn’t willing to risk.

There was another way to check, however. Marinette dipped her head down the shell of Adrien’s ear, her breath hitching, knowing this could be the biggest mistake of her life.

“Chat?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He responded, a hum in the back of his throat, moving closer towards her body. She stroked his forehead once more, absorbing the revelation with mingled fascination and horror. Adrien Agreste: her first love, her first time, and now her boss was also her partner: Chat Noir, the other hero of Paris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently as sick as Adrien ;__; so this chapter was really easy to write (sadly I have no princess or black cat to look after me!)
> 
> Thank you for all the comments (and puns) on the last chapter, they made my day~


	8. Chapter 8

When Adrien opened his eyes, Marinette was gone. Instead, his father sat in the nearby chair, scrolling through his Blackberry, spectacles perched at the bottom of his nose.

“Père?” he coughed.

Gabriel held a cool hand to his head. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” Adrien said, accepting the glass of water, teeth clinking.

“Rest for the next few days. I don’t want you to be absent from the fashion show. I’ll send the stylist here.”

The blonde nodded, sinking back into his pillows. Gabriel retreated to his seat, once again looking at his mobile. Adrien gave a small smile as he closed his eyes.

* * *

Marinette couldn’t believe it. Here she was, in the Espace Ephémére des Tuileries, not as a guest of Paris Fashion Week, but putting on her own collection. The very thought made her feel light-headed.

The room was long, narrow and dark apart from the small spotlights on the catwalk. Gabriel didn’t favour décor; he wanted everything to be minimalist.

“Let the clothes talk from themselves,” he told her.

Marinette had listened. She took notes as the models practiced the walk: day wear was long, fitted coats in autumnal chestnut and amber, complimented with grape and garnet jewel tones. Berets, scarfs and knee high-boots accompanied these outfits. Evening wear was sparkling sapphire and ebony ball gowns, swathed with faux furs wraps and accessorised with diamonds. Nothing over-the-top: after all, this was the catalogue launch, and was to be accessible to the average Parisian woman (on the higher pay scale, of course).

As she watched from the sidelines, Marinette fretted about two things. The first, a certain blonde model that she hadn’t seen since attending his sick bed (Gabriel had informed her of his decision for rest until the show) and the second, her own choice of outfit for the night.

“We’ll be dining in The Ritz after the show,” Gabriel had informed her. “It will be a long night, so I took the liberty of booking rooms for the staff, yourself included.”

Marinette had to pinch herself. The Ritz! Where the real princesses stayed. It was a place she had never ever considered in her social capability. _So these were the doors an Agreste could open_. She was painfully reminded of the different worlds she and Adrien walked in. Suddenly, his previous grievances about his former girlfriend made sense.

* * *

Despite the (expensive) champagne and wine pressed on her, Marinette refused every glass. She wanted to be stone-cold sober for her speech at the end of the show, and her dress was not exactly bathroom friendly.

There was nothing for her to do backstage. Suddenly, weeks and weeks of preparing accumulated in her being ushered to her seat.

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do…?” Marinette pleaded, as the venue began to fill.

“No,” Sophie reassured her. “We have it all under control! Besides, there’s no space back there. Someone might tread on your dress.”

Marinette nodded, tucking her feet under the meringue of white silk. Perhaps she had gotten a little carried away with the design…

She had just started to unwind in the uncomfortable chair when Gabriel and Adrien appeared. Marinette rose as gracefully as she could manage, a pink smudge across each cheek as she took in the vision that was Adrien Agreste.

He was modelling the men’s line, of course. The wool suit was burgundy, and although she’d already seen it on the rack, it didn’t look as jaw-dropping as in the flesh. The rich russet colour complimented his tan skin, which was thankfully looking healthier than the last time she had seen him. The jacket is closed with one button, the lapels are curved, finished with a startling white shirt underneath—no tie. His blonde hair had been styled back, extenuating his cheekbones and jaw line. She internally cringed at the overwhelming need to press her body against his, and pull his lips down to hers…

“Marinette,” he greeted her with a smile that allowed her to believe he was truly happy to see her. “Your dress….it's amazing.”

“A work of art,” Gabriel agreed, snapping her out of the slow-motion music video playing in her head. “The detailing is…impressive.”

“Well, as you said, it’s my first show…” Marinette swallowed the praise modestly.

“Let’s sit,” Adrien guided her next to him. “It will be starting soon.”

* * *

He was more accustomed to being on the runaway than watching from the galley, and Adrien had forgotten how incredibly boring these events can be. Luckily, there was no fear of him dozing off, not with Marinette by his side. Even without touching, her presence was a live wire next to him; if he even brushed against her, he knew the electricity would charge right through him and short-circuit his heart.

Adrien resisted stealing glances at the woman next time him, tempting as it was. The press were sat opposite them, snapping not only the new designs, but also the celebrities in attendance, including himself. With just one love-sick looking photo, he’d be splashed all over the glossy magazines tomorrow: _Agreste model has designs on something other than the catwalk._

Instead, he replayed the moment Marinette stood up. He had been talking to his father, focusing on placing one foot in front of the other (his fever had left him a little weak and his head muggy) when the flurry of red had snagged his eye.

It was the bare shoulders that had caught him unaware, like a physical blow to the chest. Of course, Adrien had seen her shoulders before, but all those memories were lewd and involved his tongue and teeth and things he really shouldn’t be thinking about in this situation.

The bodice of her dress was white, adorned with pearls, and the skirt poofed. A transparent gauze sheath flowed over it, coated in scarlet rose petals, forming a carpet of flowers. They trailed to the ground, and red peep toe heels were just visible under the hem. As Adrien drew closer, he could see that Marinette’s dark hair had been teased into waves, and rose petals drifted down the right side, as if she had been caught in a sudden flower storm. Her makeup was simple, with thick black winged eyeliner and full red lips. It clashes violently with her pale skin, and Adrien knew the weakness he felt had nothing to do with his passing sickness.

* * *

When the music finally stopped and the last model had departed the runway, Marinette shakily rose to her feet. Gabriel gave her a nod and Adrien graced her with a bright smile and a reassuring rub to her arm. She clenched her teeth and climbed the stairs, glad that she made the hem at the front of the dress short enough so she wouldn't trip.

Marinette blinked under the hot light and someone handed her a microphone. The sea of faces and flashing cameras made her feel woozy and Marinette wondered how on earth Adrien could do this, day in, day out. Is it why he resisted the modelling side of his work so much?

There’s only one way she can survive public speaking—by pretending to be Ladybug. The red rose petals became the red of her suit, and the crowd evolved into normal Parisians, waiting for her to save the day. She spotted Adrien looking up at her, and with the awe of Chat Noir nearby, her pretense worked.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming here today,” Marinette’s legs wobbled under the dress but her voice rang clear. “A lot of time and effort went into today’s show, and I’d like to thank all of those behind the scenes: the models, the stylists, and my team, without whom this event wouldn’t be possible.”

She took strength from the polite clapping.

“I’d also like to thank Monsieur Agreste for giving me this opportunity. More than ten years ago, I was simply a young girl who would buy Vogue and cut out the designs to decorate my walls. The Gabriel brand always inspired me, and was what I aspired to. Some of the collection you saw today contained nostalgic hints of that past.”

Marinette smiled. “I’m very proud to have presented you all with the first womenswear collection from this house, and I look forward to your thoughts. Thank you.”

The applause was explosive in the contained space, and Marinette stumbled slightly as she passed back the microphone: luckily no one seemed to notice. Adrien stood at the bottom of the steps, and gently took her hand, helping her down the last few.

“Well done,” he grinned, kissing her damp cheek. “You did great.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, before the swarm of paparazzi gathered around them. Marinette dabbed at her upper lip, and began to take questions, for once not as a superhero, but as a designer.

* * *

After an hour, they finally were free and everyone pilled into the limousines waiting outside. Marinette rode with her staff (taking up most of the room with her dress) and they chattered and giggled in high spirits, a bottle of champagne down upon arrival at The Ritz.

Luckily dinner wasn’t for another hour, which gave Marinette time for a quick shower and change. As beautiful as her dress was, it wasn’t practical or comfortable, and having sweated in it for hours, she was looking forward to wearing something more relaxing (and eating a lot of expensive food without worrying about staining the white material.)

Her second outfit was much more toned down: a sleeveless black silk qipao. The bottom of the dress bled into pinks and whites, depicting ‘moonlight over the lotus pond’. As soon as Marinette had began earning a proper salary, she had started to collect some beautiful qipaos, as they were something that complimented her bodyshape, clinging to her breasts and hips. The neck on this particular dress was keyhole without the traditional mandarin collar, but modest enough.

She wound her hair into a side bun and fixed it with a pearl clasp. She re-applied her makeup, swapping red for pink lipstick this time. Black stilettos finished the look, and Marinette appraised her legs confidently. Sure, she wasn’t a model, but she looked good enough, she reasoned.

Marinette joined her staff at the bar, and no sooner had opened her purse than someone else bought her a drink.

“It’s your night!” Aramis, one of her team, scolded her. “You can’t buy anything.”

“But I should be buying the drinks, to thank you for your hard work!” she protested. The first couple of glasses had already gone to her head. When had she last eaten?

“Mon. Agreste is already treating us to a night at The Ritz,” Sophie giggled. “I think we’re even!”

They were finally led to the dining room, much to the delight of Marinette’s growling stomach. Adrien was standing inside, chatting to one of the female models. She willed him to notice her, and he did turn his head slightly. She was appeased by the widening of his eyes, and the way they seemed to skit down her legs, before he jerkingly returned to the conversation he was having.

His reaction caused her to flush hotly down to her toes, and she was grateful they were seated at opposite ends of the table. Marinette barely noticed how much her glass was being filled, and she was ravenous by the time the starter was served. She paced herself so as not to make herself sick, though it was a challenge not to inhale everything placed in front of her.

* * *

“Adrien?”

“Hmm?” The blonde’s eyes snapped to the model opposite. She had clearly just asked him a question. “Ahh yes, that’s right.”

It wasn’t the first time he had zoned out of the conversation. He couldn’t stop thinking about the woman at the other end of the table (Marinette…Ladybug). He had been grateful that he hadn’t taken a sip of champagne when she walked into the room, as without a doubt it would be all down his front (or all over the model’s face that he had been talking to). Adrien had always thought Ladybug’s suit had finely accentuated her body, but he was wrong. There was something better: the little silk dress Marinette was wearing right now.

Being a model, he could remember a time when dresses, mimicking the qipao, had been in fashion, and had featured on every runway of Paris. But even the models didn’t showcase the garment as beautifully as Marinette did. Perhaps it was her Eurasian heritage: the juxtaposition of her white skin, dark hair and large blue eyes. Whatever it was, Adrien very much wished the party were over so he could get a certain someone all to himself.

The meal dragged on over four courses, and eventually everyone retired to the bar. By the time Adrien had made his way to Marinette (as naturally as possible) she was giggling, her hair coming loose at the neck and her cheeks tinted pink.

“Marinette,” his tongue lolled around her name, and she turned to him with a luscious look.

“Adrien,” she countered, putting down her empty flute on the bar.

“Are you having a good night?” he asked politely. He stuck his hands in his pockets to prevent them fastening to her hips and tracing the silk encasing her skin.

“Yes,” she bubbled, beaming. “Everyone has been so kind. I just feel so relieved, now it’s over, you know? I don’t know how you do it all the time.”

“I don’t usually have to speak,” Adrien admitted, taking a bottle of Moët from the nearest ice bucket and topping up her glass. She liked the rosé, he remembered. “You sounded very confident. I was impressed.”

Marinette laughed, accepting the flute. “That’s because I pretended I was someone else,” she confided with a wink.

“Oh?” Adrien asked, drawing closer. He watched her inhale. “Who?”

Marinette bit her lip and avoided his gaze. “That’s a secret.”

Swallowing, he leaned down and tucked back a stray curl behind the pearl clasp. She jumped at the movement, her eyes flickering uncertainly to his.

“Are you feeling better now?” she asked. “You’re not drinking?”

Adrien nodded. “I’m better, but not one hundred per cent. Too much alcohol would tip the balance.”

“I see,” Marinette said, sipping her own drink. She opened her mouth to say something else, but a fashion editor for a glossy magazine interrupted them.

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, could you please give me some comments on your inspiration behind this piece?”

Marinette flicked her eyes at Adrien, and he smiled and nodded, leaving her to explain the design.

* * *

It was 4am when Marinette finally called it a night. She made her way around the room, hugging her staff and passing on her thanks once more. She was disappointed to see Adrien had already left, but she remembered he hadn’t been feeling in great health: no wonder he had sneaked away early.

Marinette gave a sigh of relief as she pressed the button for the elevator. One hand flat against the wall, she leaned down to unbuckle her stiletto and slip it off with a sigh. Her swollen foot touching the cool, marble floor was instant relief.

She was too tired and tipsy to care who saw her. Besides, the media had all left, and none of the Agreste staff were going to judge her for taking her heels off at this time in the morning.

“Woah, there!” she wobbled as she tried to take off the second heel, and suddenly a familiar arm was around her waist, steadying her.

“Thanks,” Marinette squeaked, as Adrien knelt down and unbuckled the strap, helping her slide it off.

“That’s the one saving grace about being a male model,” Adrien winced, as he took in her pink, swollen feet. He handed Marinette her shoes, and followed her into the elevator as it pinged open. “No heels. Those things should be illegal.”

Marinette’s lip quirked. “You’re not the first guy to tell me that.” Her legs were on fire now, and she gracefully pulled herself up onto the handrail, sighing with pleasure as the pain was relieved. Her dress had bunched up, revealing the white skin of her thighs, and she caught the blonde looking.

Adrien shifted uncertainly next to her as the doors pinged shut. “What floor are you on?”

“Seven,” Marinette told him, and he pushed the button. He was number ten, which didn’t surprise her. The penthouse suite, no doubt.

The silence was unusual. Ladybug and Chat Noir had been in elevators many times during their hey-day, and the black cat had always taken advantage of the secluded space to flirt. Adrien, on the other hand, seemed determined to look at the floor, and not the mirrors that made up the walls. Marinette looked at him unguardedly, seeing his perfection from every angle. How she wished he would come to her, stand in-between her thighs and tug her hair to expose her neck…

Heat flooded over her skin at the thought, and she felt the thin strip of silk that passed as underwear become wet.

The doors opened, the polite voice of The Ritz’s elevator announcing this was floor seven. Marinette snapped from her fantasy with a gasp, and gave Adrien a quick kiss on the cheek. “Night!”

She fled down the carpeted corridor, berating herself. She dumped her heels in front of her hotel room door as she trawled through her purse for her card key.

“Damn it! Where is that thing?”

Marinette sank onto the floor, tired and sore. She emptied her purse onto the carpet. Lipstick, perfume, purse, tissues, mints, condoms… but no card key.

Sighing dejectedly, Marinette stalked back along to the elevator. She’d left her heels behind and as she pressed the down button, she tried to replay her last steps. Could she have dropped it? Did she leave it in the bathroom, or the dining table?

But it wasn’t in any of those spots. There was only a few stragglers left at the bar, which was closing, and they hadn’t seen the card key either. Marinette decided to go to the reception and ask for a new one: it was her only option.

A balding man with round glasses greeted her at the desk. She explained her problem, and he shook his head sadly.

“I’m sorry, mademoiselle. All the rooms for your party are booked under the name of Gabriel Agreste. I only have permission to give him extra card keys. We have to be very careful, as I’m sure you can understand.”

Marinette clenched her teeth. There was no way in hell she was going to wake her boss up at this time. His son, on the other hand…

* * *

Adrien sighed for the tenth time since returning to his room.

“Oh, please,” Plagg piped up from the cheese plate he was currently making short work of. “You had the opportunity and you never took it!”

“I don’t think Marinette would have appreciated me jumping on her in the elevator,” Adrien said bluntly.

“Sureeee,” Plagg said, before his nose twitched. “Oh. Interesting…”

“What--?” Adrien opened his mouth to ask, before there was a light knock on his door.

“At this time?” Adrien grumbled, looking at his watch. It was 4.30am! He stopped unbuttoning his shirt and opened the door, a rebuke on his lips.

“Hi…!” Marinette stood in front of him, rolling on the balls of her bare feet. “Sorry to bother you…I’ve lost my card key!" 

Adrien blinked at her before standing back, letting her enter the room.

“Wow…” Marinette took in the suite before them: everything was cream, with gold leaf detailing. There was a fireplace, above which an ornate mirror hung. Two loveseats in cream and gold piping and a low coffee table were situated in front. Delicate artwork hung from the walls, and a massive crystal and gold chandelier took pride of place. “I thought my room was pretty…” She shook her head. "So... as I was saying...I can't find it, and they’ll only give extra ones to Monsieur Agreste...”

Adrien chuckled, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah…um, my father returned home. He doesn’t like staying in hotels. Why wouldn’t give you an extra key?”

Marinette tore herself away from the décor and met his eyes with a blush. “Err… yeah, they seem really strict. I guess it’s because of all the celebrities that stay here? I guess I should just call a taxi and go home…”

“At this time in the morning?” Adrien tried to hold back a yawn. “Marinette, just sleep here. You might wait another hour for a taxi.”

“I…” Marinette glanced nervously at the open door. She could just glimpse the beautiful king-size bed with duck-egg blue drapes.

“You take the bed,” Adrien smiled, touching her shoulder. “I’ll sleep out here.”

Marinette protested. “I’ll take the couch! You’re too tall for it, anyway…”

“My room, my rules…” Adrien grinned. He pulled out a black t-shirt from the suitcase on the floor. “Here, go change. You look exhausted.”

“Thanks,” Marinette grumbled, but she looked relieved, accepting the t-shirt and slipping into the en-suite. Adrien laughed at her gasp of delight. The bathroom was rather splendid, too: the massive tub carved into the cream marble easily able to fit a family of four.

“How do we get into these situations…” the model muttered under his breath, as soon as she closed the door. He slumped onto the bed, rubbing his temples, where a headache was beginning to beat. It wasn’t the first time they would be sharing a hotel room together. It was amazing what had changed since that short time: they had lived together, worked together, and slept together…though Marinette didn’t know that the latter had been with him.

“Shit,” Adrien groaned, as he heard his partner thump around in the bathroom. She was tipsy, too, and by the sounds of it, struggling to get out of her dress.

Finally, the door opened, and Marinette emerged, looking adorable in his t-shirt, which stopped just at her thighs. Her hair was loose from her bun, and still wavy, and she had managed to remove her make-up (he liked the idea of her using his skin products…)

She bundled up her dress and stuck it in the corner of the room, tugging nervously on the t-shirt.

“Um…Adrien?” Marinette asked, her voice high. “Sorry to ask something so personal, but do you have a spare pair of boxers I could borrow?”

The air hissed through his lips at the unexpected question.

“It’s just…!” Marinette immediately tried to explain. “Well, that dress didn’t really allow for proper underwear, and it’s really uncomfortable sleeping in a thong, and probably not very healthy either, and…!”

“It’s okay!” Adrien cut her off, unable to listen to another word. “It’s fine, honestly! I’m a model, remember? I know how these things work.”

“Thank you,” Marinette said gratefully, as he fished out a clean pair of boxers and handed them to her.

Adrien left her to change, going into the bathroom himself to wash his face and clean his teeth. He was sweating through his shirt, so he took that off and bathed himself with a flannel and some cold water.

When he returned to the room, Marinette had already curled up on the couch, eyes closed.

“Stubborn little…” Adrien growled under his breath. The t-shirt had ridden up, showcasing her long, lithe legs, and the bright green Agreste boxers that sat snuggly on her hips. Adrien didn’t know it was possible to be jealous of material. He pulled on a comfortable, baggy t-shirt before swooping down on her.

“What are you…?” Marinette asked, as he lifted her effortlessly into the other room, and onto the bed.

“I told you,” Adrien said, his voice allowing no argument. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

“Fine!” Marinette blushed, sitting up, so their faces were inches apart. “Let’s at least share the bed then! I mean, you could fit five people in here!”

“Fine!” Adrien echoed, too tired to protest, pulling back the duvet at the other side of the bed, and climbed in.

“Wait!” Marinette gasped, turning to face him. “You can’t seriously sleep in those suit pants…”

Adrien swallowed, clearly intending to.

“Oh, for goodness sake, Adrien!” Marinette giggled. “You do realise I’ve seen your underwear campaigns? And come on, those are wool. You’ll boil alive.” 

“Are you asking me to take my clothes off?” Adrien bit out.

“Yes,” Marinette affirmed, turning away to give him privacy as he unbuttoned the pants and slipped them over a hanger. He was glad she wasn’t looking…it would be hard to hide the growing bulge in his boxers.

“I’m turning the lights off now,” Adrien said, his voice bordering on hysterical.

“Goodnight, Adrien,” Marinette said sleepily.

“Night,” he replied, sleep the last thing on his mind. Every hair on his body seemed to be tingling, and as for the growing hardness between his thighs…

He lay, rigid as a board; scared any movement would give him away. Marinette, on the other hand, tossed and turned in the large bed. Adrien was hyperaware of her every movement, her every breath and sigh.

He felt, rather than saw, that she had turned on her side towards him. There was still a lot of space between them, but he was conscious of her eyes searching for him in the dark. A tension seemed to crackle between them, and Adrien was determined not to be the first to snap.

“Adrien,” she said softly, and he shuddered at the sound of her name on his lips. His cock pulsed, and he sucked in air, nervously wetting his mouth.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, after recovering his voice.

“Mmm,” Marinette muttered. “You know, in the dark, you sound like someone else I know.”

The model’s mouth dried out completely, and his boxers tightened around his hardening length. “Who?”

“Chat Noir,” she whispered, waiting for his reaction.

“Huh,” Adrien said, struggling to keep his cool. “He dropped by one time, looking for you. You two are close?”

“Yeah,” Marinette replied softly. “You could say we are…intimate.”

Adrien bit his lip. His heart felt as though it was ready to pop from his chest cavity.

“I see,” he rasped. “Well…

Adrien turned on his side to face her, to get a better reading of the situation, but immediately realised his mistake. He could feel Marinette’s body heat on the sheet and inhaled the musky perfume masking her sweat. The model tried to blank out his thoughts, when her hand reached out and landed on his head. He jerked in shock, before her fingers sunk into his scalp. Marinette giggled.

“Your hair feels the same, too…”

Adrien hesitated. He was unsure if it was the alcohol and lack of sleep, or if Marinette had worked it out. Either way, he felt trapped, waiting to see what her next move would be. His skin began to tingle in anticipation.

“I wonder if your lips feel the same, too?” she pondered, after a pause. Her face was suddenly close to his, and before Adrien could voice an opinion, she kissed him.

He tried to be the gentleman this time. He gripped her arms, pushing her away, and Adrien heard her inhalation of shock, and the wet hitch in her breathing indicating she was going to cry.

“Wait, Marinette…” he pleaded, clumsily rubbing his thumb against her skin. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just…well, what happened last time…”

“I was hoping it wouldn’t be a repeat performance,” she hiccuped.

Adrien felt himself flush scarlet. “I… don’t think it could be any worse...”

Marinette’s fingers grasped the cotton of his t-shirt. “I wish we could go back in time and fix it, you know? But we can’t, Adrien. Why…why don’t we erase it instead, with a new memory?”

Adrien felt the shame burn across his cheeks. He embraced her, burying his face into her neck, smelling his moisturiser on her skin. It made him feel warm, too, but in a good way.

“I tried to erase it…” Adrien said, and the secret started to claw its way out. “I tried to make it up to you Marinette, I really did…”

“I know,” she sighed, her fingers tangling in his hair. “I know…Chat.”

* * *

 

He sagged against her, his shoulders shaking in a soundless sob. “My lady…please forgive me…”

Marinette stiffened against him, before she laughed. She laughed as she kissed his nose, his cheeks, kissed his tears away. They were tangled in each other, frantically kissing and whispering apologies and explanations as they tried to remove each other’s clothes.

“I’m so sorry, I should have told you…”

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have ignored you…”

“I was just so scared, because I couldn’t be Ladybug anymore…”

“It was only meant to happen once, but I couldn’t stay away…”

Their hushed voices descended into whimpers and moans as they caressed each other. Both of the t-shirts met the floor, and they were flush against each other, chest to chest, kissing and grinding.

“You need to wear my underwear more often,” Adrien managed to gasp, before hooking the waistband of the boxers down her hips.

Marinette moaned in agreement, tugging his own underwear down his legs, before grasping his cock. He shuddered in her grip, his own fingers tracing her clit before delving inside, immersing himself in the wetness and warmth of her.

“Please, Adrien…” she cried out, and hearing his real name on her lips was nearly his own undoing. He was slick to his knuckles, two fingers curling inside her while his thumb rubbed against swollen clit. She bucked against him, and he leaned down, encircling a nipple with his tongue before sucking and dragging it with his mouth.

“Oh God…” Marinette trembled underneath him, and he met her lips with hunger, sealing her hot mouth with his own, stealing her breath. She panted into his mouth erratically, but he wanted more, wanted to see her completely undone. He drew his fingers out, spreading her wetness over her skin, before using his fingertips to work her into a frenzy. She clutched onto his shoulders, shuddering and groaning until she seemed to snap taunt.

“Yes, princess…” he coaxed, leaning down to run his tongue along the length of her, sucking at her slit while his fingers still drummed a rhythm against her bundle of nerves.

“Adrien!” she gave a shallow gasp, her hips lifting off the bed, her head falling back. Her grip around him grew slack, and he relished the moment of her ecstasy, before disappearing into the bathroom.

“Shit,” he realised, all too quickly, that he didn’t have any protection in his toiletry bag.

“Adrien,” she called him back, a hand on her chest as she regained her breathing. “My clutch.”

He grinned, locating the little sequinned bag and striking gold.

“At least one of us was prepared,” Adrien teased, kneeling in front of her, and rolled on the foil.

“Did you see what I was wearing earlier?” Marinette countered, raising her eyebrows. “If that didn’t do the trick, you were a lost cause, chaton.”

Adrien chuckled, running a palm over her hip. “It did more than that. I don’t think I could have lasted another second in that elevator.”

Marinette licked her lips, rising up to meet him and palming his length once more.

“Mmm. I was kind of hoping you would do something. Maybe next time…”

“Princess…” Adrien groaned, as she teased his head against her entrance. “Please…”

Even in the dark, he could see how her eyes lit up.

* * *

“It’s only fair, since you made me beg before,” Marinette whispered, letting her breasts push against his chest, making him collapse backwards onto the bed. She positioned herself above him, deliberately allowing her wetness to trail against his thigh.

“Marinetteeee….” The model whined, his hands tracing her hips and thighs, begging her to come closer.

“Tell me what you want, kitty,” she said softly, leaning forward to kiss his stomach. She loved seeing him like this, unravelling and unfiltered. It made her feel beautiful and powerful, like she was Ladybug again.

Adrien let a burst of air puff through his lips. “Please, Marinette. I need to be inside you…!”

A small smirk graced her mouth. As much as she had enjoyed Chat’s domination before, it was wonderful to be the one in control this time. She was shaking with anticipation as she sunk down on him, taking his cock completely into her body.

“Fuck!” his curse was hoarse and desperate, and Marinette beamed down at him. His green eyes were pinned to her face, his lips tugging between his teeth. She leaned back on his thighs for support, and began to move, slow and languid.

She was no longer the little girl that was unsure and nervous. Her experiences, both good and bad, had shaped her as a woman, and now she used the best of herself to please him, her hands fisting in her own hair, her stomach muscles taunt and her thighs quivering. She loved how enraptured Adrien seemed by it all, his hands moving from her legs, ass to breasts, unable to keep still. Marinette began to quicken her pace, her back bowing, head tipping as she bounced on him. Her heartbeat grew louder in her ears, and Adrien’s breathing became more laboured, with the occasional gasp and cry. She rolled and rotated her hips, anything to increase the tempo and create that delicious tension between their bodies.

Marinette lost her rhythm as soon as Adrien reached out to touch her, rubbing her clit in time with her thrusts. She struggled to keep her balance, her tiredness hitting her all at once, and she leaned forward. Her partner understood, rising up to meet her, hooking her legs behind his back as he moved the edge of the bed so he was able to place his feet on the floor. With this support, and his arms around her back, she was able to move again, kissing him desperately as she hit that special spot again and again.

“Ahh! I’m going to…” Marinette writhed against him, and his lips fastened on her neck, chasing her erratic heartbeat. She clamped around his hips, the release so hard and fast that she thought she might blackout. Adrien tucked his hands under her buttocks, allowing him to leverage her so he could thrust upwards.

“Oh, God…” he hissed against her shoulder, and she felt his large thighs clench underneath her as he followed her in rapture. She was soon sobbing against his hair, happy tears, and they slumped back into the bed, spent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter to make up for lack of update! I've been super busy with work~
> 
> (I once had a guy try and get into bed with me wearing his jeans. I laughed for about a week.)


	9. Chapter 9

Marinette could feel her body waking up, but she was determined to cling onto her wonderful dream. Adrien was Chat Noir: they had revealed their superhero identities and promptly pulled each other’s clothes off for some wonderful love-making.

It was too perfect, she knew. Her body felt heavy and warm, and the first inkling of a hangover began to beat at her temples. Her mouth was dried out from the wine, and her bladder gave a squeeze. But still, Marinette wanted to stay in the dream.

RING-RING-RING!

She jumped, gasping, as the telephone screeched through the hotel room. She squeezed her eyelids together, wondering who on earth was calling, when she felt the bed move, and a rough voice answer.

“Yeah?”

Marinette’s stomach lurched. Oh God, someone was in bed with her! Had she brought someone to her room last night? It had been such a mad day, what with fashion show, and her speech, and she had drunk too quickly without eating enough. She remembered getting in the lift with Adrien…leaving him to go to her room…

“Can I extend the check-out to 2pm? Thanks.”

Marinette swallowed. Who on earth was this person? They must be rich anyway, to be able to afford to extend their stay.

The bed heaved again, and hot, naked skin suddenly curled around her.

“Princess…” the voice said, in a deep, sleepy rumble. “I know you’re awake…”

Marinette’s eyes immediately snapped open, and she was nose-to-nose with Adrien Agreste.

“Eep!” she immediately squeaked and shoved her face into the pillow. The model chuckled at her sudden movement, and he leaned down to kiss her spine.

“Morning to you too,” he said, smoothing her wild bed-hair.

Marinette silently screamed into the pillow. It hadn’t been a dream! Chat Noir was Adrien… And she had slept with him last night. She had made him beg for her! _Oh god oh god oh god…_

“Are you okay?” he cleared his throat, clearly concerned. “Do you want some water?”

His weight shifted on the bed, and she could hear the tinkle of ice in the jug as he poured the water into a glass. She panicked: she was naked, and although this had seemed a fantastic idea when she was drunk and in the dark, the harsh morning light was sobering her up fast. Although she had never been shy in front of Chat Noir, the very thought of displaying everything in front of Adrien Agreste made her feel queasy. Her hair was a mess, and there were probably traces of her makeup under her eyes—not to even to begin on the likely morning breath…

“Marinette?” Adrien knelt beside her, his voice tickling her ear. “Please…look at me?”

He was scared, she could tell, scared that they had made the same mistake again. She swallowed and sat up, clutching the sheet around her.

“Hey,” she said, her eyes narrowing at the brightness of the room.

“Hey,” Adrien echoed, his smile radiant. He was wearing his boxers, at least, but that only made Marinette feel even less willing to reveal herself.

"Here," he offered her the water. “Do you want me to order breakfast? Or run you a bath?”

“I’m not sure I could eat right now,” Marinette admitted, draining the glass. “Please do get something for yourself though. Are you feeling better?”

“Yup. You’ve completely cured me,” Adrien winked, making her flush.

“A bath would be nice,” Marinette squeaked, and the model gave her a cheeky salute, his grin completely Chat-like.

She released her breath once he had disappeared into the bathroom, and found her clutch on the floor. She thanked her past self for packing mints, and crammed a few into her mouth. She took stock in the mirror, wincing at her hair, which was wavy from the hairstyle the night before. She fixed the fringe, and licked her fingers, removing some stray mascara from under her eyes. The rest would have to do.

There was a towelling robe slung over the back of the dressing table’s chair, and Marinette gratefully pulled it on. She really needed to answer the call of nature now, so she peeked her head around the door, to see Adrien checking the temperature of the water.

“Can I use the bathroom quickly?” Marinette asked, and he nodded, jumping to his feet and leaving her in peace.

* * *

Adrien’s heart had finally returned to a normal speed. After Marinette’s mini-panic when she had woken up, he had feared the worst—but she seemed fine now, if a little shy. He heard the toilet flush, and the door creaked open.

“Do…do you want to join me?” Marinette asked, her face pink. It was a contrast to the time she had seductively invited Chat to bathe with her, but it was cute that she was flustered around him, after all they had done.

“Of course…” Adrien grinned, and followed her into the bathroom. It was steamy, the mirrors cloudy, and the scent of roses perfumed the air. Unlike last time, they didn’t need to sit awkwardly, as the tub was square and large enough for a family of four.

“Ahhh…” Marinette sunk quickly under the bubbles, cupping the water and washing her face. “That feels better.”

“Despite my cat-like nature, I do love baths,” Adrien admitted, lolling his head back against the marble.

Marinette giggled and splashed him, surprising him.

“Not fair, my lady!” he protested, wiping the water from his eyes. Marinette froze at the pet name, and he winced at her reaction.

“I guess we still have to talk about things…” she said, chewing on her lip.

“There’s no rush,” Adrien said soothingly, reaching out to stroke her cheek. “I meant what I said. Last night…it wasn’t like before. I’m not interested in just sleeping with you, Marinette…”

Her eyes darkened at this, and she swallowed. “Me, too. But you should know…I can’t be Ladybug right now. And…I don’t know when I’ll be able to return.”

“I don’t care about that,” Adrien insisted, sliding closer to her, making the bath water slosh. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush to his side. “I love you, not matter what form you’re in, Marinette.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"I think the fact Plagg could sense your miraculous is a good sign,” Adrien comforted her. “Your kwami must be getting her strength back.”

“I hope so,” Marinette sighed. “I miss her so much.”

“Princess,” Adrien’s voice broke. “I was so stupid, leaving you when you were so hurt. Why…why did you welcome me back? I thought you would hate me.”

“I…” Marinette struggled for words. “I was angry, at first, when I realised you were gone. I waited for you.”

Adrien felt his cheeks burn with shame.

“I just threw myself into my work, I guess? I didn’t want to think about either of you, so I just worked hard until my personal life blurred. I didn’t have time for anything else. But…I started to miss you. I missed the easy banter I had with Chat, the feeling that someone had my back…I was suddenly alone in the world.”

“You dated other guys though, right?” Adrien asked, even though he didn’t deserve the answer.

“Eventually…” Marinette said, nuzzling against his cheek.

Adrien hummed. "There’s something that's been bothering me, princess. That night… when you saw me climb in the window. You said something about how your first time with me wasn’t the worst sex of your life. What did you mean?”

Marinette blinked at him. “Well, it wasn’t the worst sex of my life…”

Adrien frowned down at her. “How could it have been any worse than that?”

Marinette considered her words carefully. “You didn’t hurt me.”

Adrien’s arm tightened around her and his whole body stiffened. “What…?”

“Oh, Adrien,” Marinette sighed, cupping his face with her wet hands. “I know you’ll always beat yourself up about that night, but we were both drunk and inexperienced. Sure, it wasn’t exactly how I imagined my first time to be, but you weren’t rough with me.”

Despite the warm water, Adrien felt a chill creep over him.

“Who hurt you, Marinette?” he demanded, clasping her wrists and pulling them around his neck.

“Not anyone you know,” Marinette told him with a sad smile. “An old colleague. We dated for a while.”

“What happened?” Adrien asked hoarsely. “Can you…tell me? Or is it too painful?”

Marinette sighed. “It really isn’t a big deal. He was much older than me, and I was sort of…intimidated by him, I guess? In his experience in the workplace, and well…I just let him take the lead in our relationship. I …he didn’t prepare me enough. And the sex hurt. And I was crying…but I think he kind of enjoyed it?”

“Oh, princess…” Adrien groaned, pressing his head against hers. “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s common, I think,” Marinette shrugged. “I was nervous, and he didn’t want to waste time on foreplay. He tore something…it was actually how I expected my first time to be. I was in agony the next day.”

“Jesus Christ,” the model hissed, feeling his blood burn.

“I just wanted it to be over as quickly as possible. The whole time, I thought of you. How you would never hurt me like that… how gentle you had been to me.”

“Marinette…” Adrien nuzzled her face against his, trying to soothe her anguish. When that didn’t work, he lifted her out the bath, and wrapped her in the biggest and fluffiest towel he could find. Tying one around his own waist, he carried her to the bed, and lay down beside her, allowing her to cry until she couldn’t cry anymore.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice watery. “I’ve never told anyone before.”

“I wish I had been around,” Adrien cursed, kissing her forehead. “I should have been there for you, princess.”

“I received your postcard from London the next day,” Marinette smiled weakly. “It made me so happy, that you were thinking about me. I learned my lesson. I decided I would never let a guy treat me like that again.”

“I never stopped thinking about you,” Adrien told her, tucking her head under his chin, stroking her back through the towel. “I missed you so much. I dated other girls, but it just didn’t feel right. It was…hollow.”

Marinette kissed his neck, snuggling further against his chest. He sighed, holding her closer, tighter.

“Will you tell me his name? I really want to pay him a visit.”

“No, chaton,” she sighed. “It was a long time ago. Just forget it, now.”

Adrien grumbled, and Marinette giggled, reaching up to kiss his lips. He closed his eyes, losing himself to her warmth.

“Come home with me?” Adrien asked against her mouth.

“Yes,” she smiled.

* * *

 Luckily, they didn’t bump into any other Gabriel staff, thanks to their late check-out.

“I would complain about not being able to get an extra card key, but actually, I feel like I should thank the management,” Adrien smirked, as they walked to his car.

"That's true..." Marinette laughed, as he took her luggage and placed it in the boot. “For once, my carelessness paid off!”

Adrien grinned at her, before starting the engine. “Would my lady like to stop at her apartment and pick up some things?”

Marinette slid her gaze to his coyly. “That depends…how long am I staying?”

Adrien chuckled, edging the car out of his space. “As long as you wish, princess.”

_Forever?_

* * *

“I’ll be ten minutes!” Marinette said, jumping from the car. Adrien waved, calling after her: “No rush!”

She was shaking as she opened her door, a mixture of excitement and adrenaline.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she told herself, opening her case and dumping her dirty clothes, packing a few work outfits and some casual wear. She threw in some shoes, and grabbed a polka-dot wash bag, filling it with her essentials. She hovered at her chest of drawers, and took out the small black box, kissing the top of it before packing it securely in-between her pajamas.

“That was super quick,” Adrien whistled, as Marinette slipped back into the car.

“Well, there’s not much of our Sunday left,” she acknowledged. “I didn’t want to waste time.”

“A lady after my own heart,” Adrien beamed. “I have a stocked fridge, so perhaps we can eat in?”

“Sounds perfect,” Marinette replied.

* * *

 An attempt was made to start dinner, but as they were both unable to keep their hands off each other, it was abandoned. Adrien had hoisted Marinette onto the table, and was making short work of her blouse while she nibbled at his earlobe.

“You’re so beautiful, princess…” Adrien told her, as he kissed around the lace of her black bra. He reached around to unhook the strap, allowing him to easily push the bra upwards, so he could cup her breasts. His thumb flicked over her nipples, and Marinette mewled into his ear, her legs wrapping around his waist.

Adrien wasted no time, covering her breast with his mouth, his hips bucking against her. She held onto his shoulders, and he slipped his hands under her buttocks, lifting her off the table and carrying her over to the sofa in front of the fireplace. He wasn’t going to try and make it to his bedroom.

Marinette tugged at his shirt, and in-between heated kisses, they both managed to remove it. She rose up to kiss his chest, and he stilled, allowing her to worship his body like this, as her hands ran over his bare arms and shoulders.

“So strong…” she murmured, and a smirk played across his face as she stoked his ego. He had always loved the difference in their height, but it was even more noticeable now: he was huge compared to her slight form. He adored it: it made him want to protect her even more. He would never allow another man to hurt her ever again.

Marinette sank back onto the cushions, pulling Adrien down with her, and they fed each other kisses, greedily learning each other’s mouths again. Her legs wrapped around his back, and he dug into her hips, hard through his jeans.

* * *

“Off,” Marinette demanded, tugging at his belt.

“As my lady commands…” the model grinned, leaning back and leisurely unclipping his belt, his face seductive.

“Are you doing a strip show?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Maybe…?” Adrien teased, running the belt slowly through his loops, before popping the top button.

“Oh my God, you are such a model,” Marinette gasped, pushing him, making him tip backwards into the cushions.

“Hey,” Adrien glowered up at her. “I thought you wanted me to take them off?”

“I’ll do it, show-off,” Marinette rolled her eyes at him, undoing the rest of the buttons. Adrien watched her, his green eyes glowing, as she tugged the denim down his hips, revealing his white Armani boxers. They clashed with the tanned skin of his stomach, and she kissed him there, noting the lack of hair.

“I had to wax for a recent shoot,” Adrien wrinkled his nose. “Not very manly.”

“I like it,” Marinette told him, kissing the soft skin. He wriggled under her hot breath, and it was her turn to smirk as she palmed the bulge under his boxers.

“Ahh,” Adrien groaned, bucking into her touch. “Princess…you love to tease me.”

“I do,” Marinette agreed. She slowly eased the waistband down, allowing his erection to spring free. She grasped him tightly and swirled her tongue around the head, and he tasted exactly how she remembered. She pressed her thighs together, feeling herself become wet as she sucked on him, careful to cover him with salvia to keep the friction pleasurable.

“Oh god,” Adrien exhaled, and his hands reached under her skirt, and began to rub against her underwear frantically. She jumped, losing her concentration, and his cock slipped from her mouth. She used the chance to circle his head around her lips, which she remembered he liked, and to bounce him gently off her mouth.

“Marinette…!” he whined, his fingers scraping at her wet patch now, before slipping through the leghole of her underwear. She moaned around his length as he thrust two digits inside her, his fingers immediately seeped in her essence.

“You’re so wet already…” Adrien hissed with delight, and she kissed down his cock, before taking his balls into her mouth. She admired the weight of them, and how the blonde writhed beneath her as she sucked on them.

“I’m going to…!” he warned, his hand retreating to grasp her thigh as his stomach clenched, throwing his abdominal muscles into sharp relief. Marinette covered his head with her lips, and sucked, enjoying the cum that flooded into her mouth. She swallowed easily, as he gasped her name over and over like mantra, his nails digging into her thigh.

“Mmm,” Marinette said, licking some stray drops from his stomach. “I missed that.”

Adrien gulped in air, his eyes closed and his cheeks flushed. She settled down next to him on the couch, waiting for him to recover.

* * *

“Okay,” he said, exactly three minutes later. The room had finally stopped spinning and his heart rate had slowed from a gallop to a canter. “Your turn, my lady.”

In his absence, she’d removed her clothing so she was clad in only black lace panties. Marinette kissed his mouth before turning around on the couch, so her naked back was against his bare chest. They slotted together perfectly, and Adrien sucked on a favourite spot on her shoulder as his hands softly stroked her breasts. He felt Marinette relax against him, and his right hand slipped down her stomach, until he was fully cupping her. He was awed by how wet she was, that she was that aroused from going down on him. He ran his full hand back and forth, savouring the stickiness and warmth, while Marinette groaned in protest.

“Patience, my princess,” he whispered in her ear, rubbing his palm up and down her, while his mouth was occupied with marking her shoulder. She sighed with frustration, pressing her ass firmly against him, making her irritation clear. Adrien pressed back, letting her feel his growing hardness against the lace of her panties.

“Chatonnnn!” Marinette complained loudly, and he grinned. He had teased enough. Adrien dipped a single finger down her slit, before receding back to where he knew she will be throbbing. She lifted her hips in response, her way to tell him to go faster.

While his other hand began to play with her nipple, the model used his clammy fingertips to massage her clit. Marinette rocked against him, her ass moving in time with his fingers, pleasuring him in return.

“Naughty bug,” Adrien gasped, resisting the primal urge to buck, and instead focusing on the pressure of his fingers, constantly returning to her heat to coat them. There was nothing worse than dry friction, and Marinette was blessed with a naturally high amount of lubrication when she was aroused (although she had been embarrassed at first, all those years ago, he had convinced her it was the hottest thing he had ever seen).

“So close, Adrien,” Marinette panted, her hand tugging the underwear further down her legs, granting him better access.  

“Mmm…” the blonde moaned into her ear. “You feel so good, Mari. I really want to be inside you right now.”

“Ahhh…” she twitched under his touch, and he didn’t relent, knowing how easy it was for the build-up to disappear (he had lost a few of her orgasms when they were younger, due to his inability to concentrate of one part of her body at a time.)

“Yes…yes, please!” Marinette’s body bowed against his, her bare buttocks jutting against his tented boxers, making him rub back in response.

“Come for me, Marinette,” Adrien begged, and she cried out in return, her hips lifting and lifting until finally, she snapped against him. He stilled, drawing his hand back to taste her as the tremors rode through her body. He kissed her shoulder, and she turned around to face him, so they could kiss properly.

“Good?” Adrien asked, because her always like to check.

“Wonderful,” Marinette told him dreamily, stroking his chest (and his ego once more). “Give me a minute?”

“Of course,” Adrien laughed, tucking her head under his chin, and stroking her back, feeling her heart jump erratically against his.

* * *

“Okay,” Marinette finally breathed. “I’m pretty wiped, Chaton, so would you mind taking over?”

“My pleasure, my lady,” Adrien purred, tucking a cushion under her head and another under her back. He disappeared for a moment to retrieve a condom, and Marinette let her eyes flutter shut.

“Oh, princess…” he laughed, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

“I’m still awake!” she said, her eyes blinking.

“I think you need your bed,” Adrien raised his eyebrow.

“No! Please, I still want to…” Marinette said, pouting, pulling him onto the couch, on top of her. He diverted the weight of his body onto his knees, his hands cupping her jaw as they kissed.

“Sure?” he asked.

“Yes!” Marinette insisted, reaching down to guide him.

“Okay, okay!” he laughed, stilling her hand. He pushed in, opening her thighs wider, and she was glad the couch was long enough for him to lie out on.

There was something so familiar about his weight on top of her, his scent of sweat mixed with excitement, and the touch of his hand. It made her feel safe, like she was home. How could she ever tire of this? From the light of the imitation fire, his blonde hair was bright and his eyes had a luminous edge, as if he was transformed. She still felt a jolt of shock when she remembered the Chat Noir she had slept with was actually Adrien.

Adrien, who had currently filled her to the brim, making her swell with love. Tears pricked her eyes and he seemed to catch her mood, affected, his own eyes glistening.

“I love you,” she told him, realising she hadn’t said it yet, and needed to speak it quickly, or it would choke her.

“Marinette,” Adrien swallowed, before drawing out and pushing back in ever so slowly. She was worried she didn’t look attractive like this, head perched on the armrest, stomach rounded with need, her legs splayed open. But then his tears were falling on her face, and he leaned down to kiss her, so tenderly, she thought her heart would seize up.

She was quivering, shaking with her love for him, as if she was too full and had to spill over. He whispered to her, told her exactly how much he loved her, for how long, and how he would never stop, as he thrust into her.

Marinette scrabbled at his neck as he increased the pace, feeling every stroke intensely and minutely as if he was being carved into her skin.

"Adrien," she exclaimed, as she tipped her head back, content to watch him as he toiled above her, his chest and arms shining with sweat, his breathing loud as his chest heaved.

“You are amazing,” he managed to gasp, holding her hips as he sunk into her again and again. “I love you, so much.”

The honesty of his words tore through her, and she felt amazing. She felt the power in her body, and the hold she had over him, how she was connected to him through this act, and how he would return to her, again and again.

Marinette locked eyes with him as her fingers crept down her stomach and she touched herself, slowly, lazily. Adrien clenched his teeth, a howl threatening to rip from his mouth as he moved faster. She felt everything tighten and become lighter, and then she was free, dancing above them.

 

* * *

 

 

He always admired her ability to blackout after lovemaking. It terrified him slightly, though, that she must have let her guard down around other men. But then, her previous words came back to him, and he wondered how many lovers had actually given her that release. He hoped it was only him, though that was selfish.

Adrien effortlessly carried her to his bed. He had slipped on her black panties but not bothered with anything else. He tucked the covers up to her chin, and kissed her cheek. He returned to their abandoned dinner, ate his own portion, and put hers in the fridge for later. Adrien really liked how domestic the act was, and he realised he wanted to do it more. All the time, if she would allow it.

By the time he had showered, she was sitting drowsily at the kitchen table, eating her share.

“Sorry I fell asleep on you again,” she laughed.

“I’m used to it now. I take it as a compliment,” Adrien teased, ruffling her rumpled hair.

She pursed her lips at him, then giggled, finishing her food.

“I wish we didn’t have work tomorrow…”

Marinette quirked her eyebrow. “You could take a day off, if you wanted.”

“No point if I can’t spend it with you,” Adrien grinned, touching his nose against hers. “Can I drive you to the office tomorrow?”

“Of course!” Marinette replied. “Why would I say no?”

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, well, if anyone sees us…I know you were upset before, about my father.”

“That was different,” Marinette said, waving her hand. “Now, _I am_ using his son to get to the top.”

“Ouch,” Adrien said playfully, clutching his chest. “And here I thought it was just for my good looks.”

“Those don’t hurt, either,” Marinette winked.

* * *

“You don’t mind this, right?” Adrien asked, as he spooned against Marinette that night. “If you get too warm, or if it’s annoying, just push me away.”

“It’s fine, chaton,” she reassured him, for the third time. “I like it.”

“Good,” Adrien sighed against her neck. “Sorry. I’m too needy, I know.”

“You’re a perfect amount of needy,” Marinette giggled, stroking the hand that was on her stomach.

“Just you wait,” Adrien said darkly. “You haven’t seen the half of it yet. I’m ridiculously possessive and jealous and attention-seeking. You’ll be bored of me in a week.”

“I highly doubt it, kitty,” Marinette said, turning around to face him. “What’s brought this on?”

“Ahh,” Adrien pressed his lips together. “It’s just…I’m conscious of it, you know? I’ve had the therapy and I’m aware I’m trying to fill a big mother-shaped whole in my life. I just thought…I should warn you. Before we go any further.”

“Well, in that case,” Marinette grinned, stroking his back, “you should also know that I’m terrible with money. Can’t save a cent.”

“Hmm,” Adrien said, considering.

“I’m also late. All the time. And I’m terribly clumsy, I’ll probably injure you by accident, and break several things belonging to you.”

“Just not my heart?” Adrien asked hopefully, and Marinette made a noise of protest.

“Sorry, that was bad, wasn’t it?”

“I’ll get used to it,” Marinette told him with a kiss. ‘Now, sleep. Work tomorrow.”

“Indeed. Goodnight, princess. Tomorrow should be…interesting…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needy Adrien is needy~
> 
> Next time: office shenanigans! :D


	10. Chapter 10

Adrien was so close; he could feel it. Clearing his throat, he clicked the mouse, and referred back once again to Marinette’s employment history.

He knew it couldn’t have been her last job, because she said it had happened a long time ago. All he had to go on was the postcard from London: but that didn’t help, because there had been several postcards. He had fallen into a habit of writing her little notes whenever he was homesick. He couldn’t write to her when he was in Milan, but whenever he travelled to London for work, he looked out for something cute to send her: a black cat wearing a bowtie, or pawprints in the snow.

Adrien growled and ruffled his hair as he scrolled back through Marinette’s CV. Could it have been the internship at Chanel? She said she had been intimidated by the guy’s experience in the industry. But no, looking at the dates, that wasn’t right. He hadn’t been in London that year at all.

The next job, then, which had been with a small independent label. Adrien had never heard of them before, but he soon located their website, and flicked through the staff photos. Could it be one of these men? What if he no longer worked there? Adrien sighed, and put his head in his hands.

There was a light tap on his door, and he gave a muffled: “Come in.”

“Hey!” Marinette beamed, setting down a cup of steaming coffee. “Thought you might need this. We have the staff meeting in five.”

“You’re an angel,” Adrien said, hastily trying to close the window he had open on his computer.

“Working hard?” Marinette teased, peering around the screen, only to catch sight of her CV. She blinked. Adrien felt his stomach lurch, and he groped for an excuse.

“Having second thoughts?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light, but he could see hurt in her eyes.

“No, of course not!” Adrien rose to his feet, his hands resting on her shoulders. “It’s nothing like that…”

Marinette’s face scrunched in adorable confusion, and the model sighed. He simply couldn’t lie to her.

“I was just…thinking. About our conversation the other night.”

Marinette tilted her head.

“About…that guy that hurt you. I was trying to work out who he was.”

“Adrien!” Marinette immediately scolded him, her eyes darkening, and he flinched at her reaction.

“I told you to forget it, chaton…” she sighed, stroking his face. He leaned down into her touch, kissing her palm.

“I can’t,” Adrien admitted, and he could feel his face flush. “I hate the thought of someone hurting you, princess.”

Marinette swallowed, and lowered her gaze. “He’s married now, with kids. I’d like to think he’s a better person now. So please, just forget about it? For me?”

The model nodded. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, Marinette. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she smiled, tracing his cheekbones with her thumbs. “How did I end up with such a sweet and caring guy? I must have saved a country in my last life.”

“Well, you saved Paris a lot in this life,” Adrien teased, caressing her hair. “I think you deserve it.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Marinette told him, leaning in for a kiss. Their lips had merely brushed when there was a sudden cough behind them. They sprang back immediately, faces guilty as hell.

“The staff meeting is about to start,” Nathalie informed them, with no emotion breaking through her mask. “Are you planning to join us?”

“Yes!” Adrien coughed, grabbing his coffee and nearly pouring the whole lot down his white shirt. “We’ll be right there.”

They waited until Nathalie had disappeared before they shared a private giggle and a quick kiss.

 

* * *

 

Marinette tried to keep a straight face as she entered the board room. Nathalie sat to the left of Gabriel, and didn’t spare her a glance as she sat down. Would she tell her employer? Marinette was sure Adrien wouldn’t care either way, but she was rather concerned at what her boss’ reaction would be. She was sure ‘kissing his son’ wasn’t a skill he looked for in a head designer.

Adrien strolled in a few moments later, the last to arrive. He sat opposite Marinette and smiled at her warmly. She tried in vain not to blush. It seemed he knew exactly how to make her feel like a schoolgirl again, rather than a woman in her late twenties. She scowled at him and he gave her a smirk in return before averting his eyes.

“It’s the launch of the Biffi Boutique tonight, and they are showcasing our new womenswear line, so congratulations, Marinette. You shall go along and observe. Adrien, how is your schedule? Some of your colleagues from Milan will be there.”

Marinette didn’t miss the way the blonde model flinched at this comment, but he didn’t offer an opinion.

Nathalie swiped through the tablet in front of her, her mouth a fine line. “Adrien did have a prior engagement tonight, but it has been switched to next week.”

“Perfect,” Gabriel said. “Aramis, prepare the wool double-breasted overcoat. Khaki, I think. ”

“Yes, sir.”

“Marinette, select something for yourself from the new range. Perhaps the black velvet?”

“Of course,” she nodded. She didn’t mind being told what to wear by her boss. It was part of the job. And if it meant going to some party with Adrien to see her collection on display, how could she complain?

 

* * *

 

They didn’t see each other for the rest of the day, and Marinette was a hot mess by the time the model arrived in her studio, a cheeky grin on his face as he held up the black velvet dress on a hanger.

“We don’t have time to go back home,” Adrien said, glancing at the white gold watch on his wrist. “Do you want to freshen up in my bathroom? There’s a shower there.”

“Yes, please,” Marinette groaned, swiping her fringe from her face. She felt greasy and disgusting from working under hot lights all day.

“You go first,” Adrien said, leading her to his office. “There’s fresh towels and the like. Are you hungry? I can get some food sent up.”

‘I’m okay,” Marinette smiled, kissing him on the cheek. “Let’s just grab something after the party.”

* * *

 

Merely half an hour later, Marinette found herself sitting on Adrien’s desk, completely naked, towel abandoned on the floor. Her legs were spread open, heels on the surface of the desk. He stood in front of her, thrusting two fingers in and out while she threw her head back in pleasure. The blonde kissed her neck, and she hooked a leg around his hip for support, while allowing him to penetrate her deeper.

“Ahh, Adrien!” she gasped, paperwork crumpling under her ass. She had no doubt that she would be soaking them beyond any further use but the model didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, sucking on her nipple with groan. His free hand raked through his top drawer for a condom and at that moment, the door handle wobbled.

“Adrien?” Nathalie’s voice came through the wood, and Marinette covered her mouth. She thanked God he had locked the door.

“I’m getting dressed, Nathalie!” the blonde answered, his voice several octaves too high.

“Just to let you know the car will be here in fifteen.”

“Shit,” Adrien cursed, dropping the condom back into the drawer. “We may have to delay this play date, princess…”

“I need to clean up!” Marinette squeaked, hoping down from the desk and staggering, forgetting her legs were currently jelly. Adrien chuckled at her predicament and she glared at him, closing the bathroom door with a snap.

 

* * *

 

Marinette was glad for the cool night air. Her face was a beacon, and she was sure it was warm enough to bake bread on. The black velvet dress was long sleeved and reached her ankles, but luckily there was a slit up the right side, allowing some air to dance over her bare skin. The dress was clingy and not her usual style, but Adrien couldn’t keep his eyes off her, so she guessed it was worth it. She had pinned her hair up messily, and kept her makeup to winged eyeliner and plum-coloured lips.

Adrien looked dashing as always, the khaki overcoat in a military style, fitting in form. He had teamed it with black skinny jeans and brown boots.

“Ladies first,” he grinned, winking at her as he opened the back door of the limo. She slipped in, ignoring his emphasis on ‘ _lady_ ’. She was frustrated that they had been interrupted, and annoyed how flawless Adrien looked, as always.

The model slipped in beside her, leaving the middle seat empty between them, so as not draw attention from the Gorilla, who was driving. Adrien’s mobile rang out and he answered in Italian, and Marinette felt her face flame again. Just how many languages could the boy speak? The accent was effortless on his tongue and she tried not to squirm.

 _“Principessa…”_ Adrien’s voice was suddenly in her ear, jolting her from her thoughts. “Are you okay? You seem a little…tense.”

“Well, you know whose fault that is,” Marinette gritted out, eyes fixed on the night lights of Paris that flashed by the tinted window.

Fingers traced the bare skin revealed by the slit of her dress, and she jumped, her thighs pressing together.

“Forgive me,” Adrien purred. “I promise I’ll help you _relax_ …later.”

Marinette removed his hand, and crossed her arms, aware of the cat-like smirk gracing his face.

 

* * *

 

The boutique was packed when they arrived, with beautiful flower garlands leading the way into the shop. Everything was very white and minimalist, allowing the clothes to stand out in their autumnal colours.

“Marinette, let me introduce you to Fabian. We worked together in Milan, and he’s the manager for this boutique.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle,” Fabian looked rather like an angel from a renaissance painting, with his olive skin and dark hair. “We love the new women’s collection. My wife is thrilled to be able to wear Gabriel at last.”

“Thank you!” Marinette shook hands with Fabian. “This is a great space you have here.”

" _Sì_. I learned a lot from your talks with your father, Adrien. Too many shops overshadow their range by being garish. Who wants to shop in the dark? I can’t understand it!”

Marinette giggled and nodded her head in agreement. Fabian gave them a tour of the boutique, and she complimented him on the rose-gold hangers, the elevated mannequins, and the wall of mirrors outside the fitting room that allowed the buyer a better view.

“Ah, look Adrien, how they’ve teamed the wool dress with this scarf…”

Marientte trailed off, realising her partner was no longer beside her. She turned, and saw the model standing with a beautiful woman, whose fingertips were brushing his arm. At first, Marinette rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the collection on display, but something about Adrien made her look back. It was his face expression: frozen, uncomfortable, something she had only seen him wear as a young boy. She drew closer, trying to hear the conversation as she pretended to browse.

“So, what do you think? Maybe you can lend me three pieces, to start with. The exposure at the EMAs is simply amazing, and that way, it’s win-win, no?”

Then it clicked. This woman was trying to blag free clothing! Poor Adrien was far too kind and awkward to deal with the situation, so she subtly returned to his side.

“Marinette…” Adrien said her name gratefully, his green eyes those of cornered cat.

“Marinette?” the woman repeated, one carefully plucked eyebrow rising. “Oh! So we finally meet. I’ve heard all about you.”

“Oh?” Marinette asked, one hand on her hip. “Sorry, I have no idea who you are.”

The woman flinched as if she had been slapped, and Marinette took in her appearance. Her French was good, but she wasn’t a native speaker. Her hair was dark and shiny, flowing straight down her back. Her skin was slightly tan, and her brown eyes were amplified by her smoky makeup. Her black lace dress clung to her plunging cleavage, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“Marinette, this is Elisabetta,” Adrien said, his voice low. “My colleague from Milan.”

“And previous lover,” Elisabetta interjected, with a curved smile.

“Ah,” Marinette lifted her chin. Even with her heels, she was far smaller than the Italian model and singer.

“So, you work for Gabriel now?” Elisabetta asked, sipping from her champagne flute. “What wonderful timing, just as Adrien returned to Paris.”

“It was coincidence,” Marinette smiled politely, helping herself to some champagne as the waiter passed.

“Really?” the Italian challenged. “No other positions came up before that time?”

“Elisabetta…” Adrien pleaded softly, but he was ignored by both women, who only had eyes for each other.

“They did, but I didn’t feel ready for them yet,” Marinette explained, as if speaking to a child. “Working for Gabriel had always been a dream for me. I wanted to be confident that I could succeed, before I applied.”

“How sweet!” the Italian said. “Adrien, do you remember the dreams you used to have?”

Marinette saw the blonde’s face pale, and he clenched his jaw.

“Ahh, he was so cute! I used to wake up in bed to hear him crying and calling your name. ‘Marinette, Marinette! Please forgive me! Do you remember, Adrien?”

The model choked, unable to speak. Marinette felt winded by the information.

"I had never seen a man cry so much, _M_ _io Dio_. If it wasn't about you, it was about his mother..."

Marinette took a step forward, standing protectively in front of Adrien. “How dare you...”

“How dare I?” Elisabetta repeated, her face sour. “If it wasn’t for me, Gabriel would not even exist in _I talia_! It was my connections that helped Adrien. Our relationship that drew the attention of the press!”

“Be that as it may,” Marinette said softly, “you have no right to speak to him like that. You clearly don't care about him! He was a benefit to your career, by the sounds of it. And here you are, trying to use him again.”

“Marinette, it’s okay…” Adrien said, touching her shoulder.

“I created this collection,” Marinette drew herself up to her full height, feeling the power of Ladybug tint her voice. “And I decide who can and cannot wear it. You can look else wear for your sponsorship.”

“Hah!” the Italian model set down her empty flute on a nearby table with a thwack. “You wouldn’t catch me dead in your tacky collection, Marinette. You’re welcome to it…and Adrien Agreste. If you think for a moment his father will accept you, you have a big surprise coming your way. He handpicks his son’s relationships…in the same way he picked me.”

With that, Elisabetta flounced off, and Marinette clenched her fists, trembling with rage.

“Mari…” Adrien held her hands to his chest. “You didn’t have to do that. Sorry…I should have spoken up sooner...”

His hands were shaking over hers, and she wanted nothing more than to comfort him. But they were in too public a place.

“Let’s say our goodbyes, and go home.”

 

* * *

 

The journey back to the apartment was quiet. Marinette held Adrien’s hand in the seat between them, running her thumb over his. They ate some leftovers from the fridge, neither with any real appetite. They soon found themselves in Adrien’s bed. He was still shaking, and Marinette had wrapped him up like a burrito in the duvet, and tucked his head under her chin, gently stroking his hair.

“Elisabetta is force to be reckoned with,” Marinette whispered. “I can see how that would put you off relationships…”

“Mmm,” Adrien agreed. “I’m sorry about what she said, earlier. She never was good at keeping private thoughts to herself.”

“It’s okay,” Marinette reassured him, kissing his forehead. “Did you…often have nightmares? About me?”

“Yes,” Adrien replied, quickly. “So many. And I saw your face everywhere, in Milan and London. It drove me insane. I guess Elisabetta was a saint to put up with me, really.”

“I wouldn’t go that far…” Marinette chuckled. “She seemed a bit of a handful herself. What did she mean…that your father picked her?”

“Ahh…” Adrien snuggled closer to her body. “Père only wanted me to date other celebrities. Apparently our PR team thought it would be a good idea. Make me a heart throb in Paris, London and Milan and boom: fashion empire is sewn up. Our line in every store.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Marinette sighed, petting his hair again. “Didn’t you tire of being…used?”

“Yeah. But then again... it was the only way to feel loved.”

The model gave an “oomph!” and Marinette tugged open the duvet and dived on top of him, burying her face into his neck.

“Please don’t say things like that,” she breathed, her eyes wet. “I love you. I’ve always loved you…”

“Princess…” Adrien’s voice broke as he wrapped his arms around her. “I know that, now. I love you too. So much…”

Marinette peppered his face with kisses, and he gave her such a genuine smile of warmth that she wanted to cry.

"Go to sleep, chaton," she urged him, leaning her face on his chest.

“Okay. Night, my lady…”

 

* * *

 

Adrien left for an early breakfast meeting with a buyer, so Marinette had the apartment to herself as she dressed. She raked through her suitcase, trying to find something suitable to wear, but her mind was so full of Adrien. He seemed so down, the night before. Was there nothing she could do to cheer him up?

“Aha…” a mischievous smirk crept across her face as she retrieved a forgotten pair of black stockings. Marinette sifted through her clothing, finally finding the polka dot pencil skirt she had worn at her interview. This would be perfect.  
  
*

“Morning!” Marinette chirped brightly, entering Adrien’s office. He returned her smile, and she felt a thrill at seeing him wearing his black, square glasses. He only wore them when he was too tired for contacts.

She set down his coffee on the desk. She had a habit of making him a cup whenever she was going to the kitchen. It seemed like the type of thing a partner would do, and Adrien always seemed to appreciate it.

“Thank you!” he laughed, taking a sip from the cup.

“How was the buyer meeting?” Marinette asked, perching on the edge of his desk. Her skirt shifted above her knees and the action didn’t go unnoticed by the model.

“Good. I managed to sway them from a bigger discount. How has your day been?”

“Fine!” Marinette said, touching her lip. “I’m really annoyed, though, I left something at home and it’s been bothering me all day.”

“Oh?” Adrien asked, his eyebrows raised. “Your phone?”

“No…” Marinette paused, before looking at her partner from under her lashes. “My panties.”

She watched with delight as the blonde promptly spat the coffee back into his cup.

“What?” he gasped, his green eyes wide and darting to the door, which was ajar. “Marinette!”

“I know…” she sighed, running her hands over her hips. “It’s so irritating! How could I have forgotten? I mean, I remembered to put on stockings…?”

Adrien jumped to his feet and slammed the door, locking it before leaning his back against the wood.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his face scarlet. “Are you trying to give me an early death?”

Marinette regarded him playfully, before reclining back onto his desk, slowly pulling her skirt up and over her legs. “You have a promise to keep, Monsieur Agreste. Aren’t you going to finish what you started?”

“I will…” Adrien said, his breathing shallow, “but it’s dangerous. People will be looking for me…they'll be confused if my office is locked at this time...”

Marinette let her skirt bunch up over her stockings before unloosening the silk bow at her throat. “Your father and Nathalie have just left for a meeting in Marseille. They won’t be back until tomorrow.”

“Oh, that was today…” Adrien remembered, shaking his head before focusing on the woman currently sprawled across his desk.

“And I’ve informed the staff we have an important strategy meeting and shouldn’t be disturbed until lunchtime…”

"My, aren't you resourceful..." Adrien said, impressed. He took measured steps over to his desk, and gently ran his hands over Marinette’s legs, fingering the lacy tops of her stockings.

“That’s the reason I was hired, Mons. Agreste,” Marinette teased, her foot nudging between his legs, making him groan. She gently massaged his erection with the toe of her heel and he gripped the edge of the desk. “I’m dedicated, hardworking and I can go beyond the call of duty…”

“Gahh…” Adrien panted as Marinette moved, standing up to shimmy out of the pencil skirt and lean over the desk, presenting her pale, naked behind and her legs still sheathed in black stockings.

"Don’t I deserve a reward, Mons. Agreste?” she asked, wiggling her hips. “A bonus? For all my _hard_ work?”

“Mari…” Adrien released his breath with a heave, before both his hands cupped her backside and squeezed. She rested her head in her arms, enjoying his fondling. The model knelt down behind her, kissing and sucking on her buttocks, before using his thumbs to part her flesh and taste her.

“Oh god,” Adrien gasped against her. “I can’t believe you haven’t been wearing panties all morning. You’re so naughty, bug…”

“Mmm…” Marinette agreed, as he sucked at her greedily, before lapping with his tongue. She gripped the sides of the desk, whimpers falling from her lips as he stroked her with his tongue and finger alternatively.

“Such a pretty pussy,” Adrien whispered against her thigh, before sucking the spot and biting down, making her yelp. He soothed the mark with his lips, before getting to his feet. Marinette moved discreetly against the desk, still searching for release as Adrien unbuckled his suit pants. She heard the rustle as they fell to the floor, and he tutted at her, stilling her hips.

“Bad girl,” he chided, delivering a sharp slap to her buttock, making her cry out and jerk underneath him. “Are you trying to have fun without me?”

“Please, Adrien…” Marinette whimpered, restlessly moving, trying to find that friction. “I need you so bad…”

The model chuckled, and sunk his hands into her hair, keeping her still, while he bumped his cock against her. She moaned into his paperwork, almost drooling with anticipation.

“You like that, princess?” he asked, rubbing his head against her slit, slowly up and down, letting her feel how warm and hard he was.

“Ahh…Adrien!” she begged, her legs opening further, her heels sinking into the carpet. “Please, please…”

This time he actually managed to rip the foil open and get it on. Marinette tensed on the desk as he pressed against her: unable to see him, only feel him. He hitched her right leg up, angling her position.

“Yes…” Marinette moaned, as he finally slipped inside her. Adrien thrusted hard and fast against her, the sharp slap of skin on skin echoing in the office. All she could do was hold on tight to the desk as he pounded into her. When she tilted her head, she caught his side profile in the wall mirror: his look of concentration (still wearing his glasses); naked from the waist down, his ass clenching with the effort of fucking her. Marinette tightened around him and he growled. The model leaned down to kiss her shoulder, before he quickened the pace. She resisted a squeal, the friction so good that it was difficult to keep her leg up.

“Damn…” Adrien cursed, and she could feel the heat of him at her back, even through his shirt. “I’m never going to look at this desk the same way again…”

“Good…” she gasped in response, as he pulled out and teased his head against her again.

"I need to see you,” the model said throatily, turning her onto her back. “I want to see your expression…”

Marinette brushed up against him, kissing him frantically. Her blouse had gaped open and he squeezed at her breasts that were spilling out of their cups, as if eager for his touch. He reached down and rubbed her clit as they kissed, making her whine into his mouth and clamp down on his lip. He backed her onto the desk, and raised her legs up and back, so they pressed against her chest. She was completely exposed, and the noise of people walking by in the corridor – unaware of their antics – only heightened her arousal.

Adrien trailed his cock against her, making her buck wantonly against his touch. But he pulled away before she could climax, and sunk back inside her, keeping her legs raised.

“So deep,” he panted, with long, thick strokes. “Is that good, princess?”

“Yes!” she cried out, covering her mouth when she realised how loud she was. Adrien smirked down at her, his green eyes a familiar absinthe. The blonde shuddered against her as his hips slammed back against her body, making her ass and thighs quiver. He grasped her ankles, holding them higher, and she braced herself with her hands against his thighs.

“You should wear stockings more often,” Adrien gritted out.

Marinette was struggling not to be loud. The rhythm he had built up was so strong, the desk was shaking along with them. She had been close to the edge of her orgasm several times now, only to be denied, and the slow burn had made her more sensitive. Now it rushed up to meet her, as Adrien’s shirt stuck to him with sweat.

"You feel so good, my lady,” he huffed, pinning her ankles together with one big hand while his freed fingers returned to her clit. He used the tip of one to stroke her in time with his thrusts.

“Ahhh!” Marinette writhed against him, unable to bare it anymore. She fizzled, like a dying star, as she crashed back into the atmosphere. Her body trembled uncontrollably, and Adrien hissed, feeling her clench around him. He watched  with hooded eyes as the flush stole up her chest and her eyelashes fluttered. Then he broke, slumping over her body, his thighs shaking with the effort of standing.

“We should have this meeting again sometime,” Marinette giggled, kissing the tip of his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically why I started writing this fic in the first place: office smut! <3 
> 
> Next time...the return of a certain spotted heroine~


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt his heart tremble in his ribcage, and he realised it had been too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, dear readers. My health has been awful recently, and it's caused delay after delay for my writing. I'm still not fully recovered, but hopefully you'll see more of me :)
> 
> There's one chapter left of SB, so do stay tuned for the finale~
> 
> ps. to readers who simply say 'Update soon' etc: your review will be ignored. Please don't waste your time. I will update when physically possible.

­­­­­­Marinette crept around as quietly as she could in the dark, mumbling under her breath as she stubbed her toe. She clawed some suitable clothing from her suitcase, and then gave up trying to do buttons without a light, retreating to the bathroom.

Even without makeup, her face had a happy glow. She smiled at her reflection as she brushed her hair. Adrien had perked up after their little office ‘play date’ and they had shared a rather wonderful bath together upon returning home. She was glad to see her partner had slipped into an easy sleep that night.

Since he would be working late today, Marinette was going into the office first, for a change. She didn’t want to wake the blonde, so deep his sleep seemed, but she couldn’t resist perching on the bed and teasing her fingers through his hair. His face was so peaceful and Marinette gave a contented sigh, kissing his cheek. It was hard to leave him, even though she would see him later that day.

“Mornin…’” Adrien drawled, screwing up his eyes. His voice was thick with sleep and as he shifted the duvet, his scent, mixed with sweat, was released. Marinette felt a tingle between her thighs and cleared her throat, trying to ignore the primal urge.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Marinette teased, kissing him on the lips. He mewled at her when she made to pull back and get off the bed, instead finding herself tangled in his embrace.

“Adrien!” she scolded. “I’m going to be late!”

“Don’t care,” the model huffed, kissing her neck.

“Well, it’s okay for you…” Marinette sighed, poking his cheek. He responding by biting her finger, making her giggle.

“Don’t go…” Adrien whispered, nuzzling against her. “Call in sick.”

“Some boss you are!” Marinette chastised him, trying in vain to leave the bed again, but Adrien held her firm. There was nothing more she wanted to do than give in to him, but she had deadlines to meet!

"Mmm,” Adrien agreed, curling flush around her body, so she could feel his erection pressing against her backside. “I’m simply terrible.”

Marinette felt the flash of lust travel over her body again, making her resolve weaken. Adrien gently nibbled the shell of her ear while his warm hand slipped under her dress, tracing the cotton of her underwear.

“You remembered today, I see,” he teased, brushing his fingers against her gusset before slipping under her waistband. Marinette flushed at the evidence of her arousal already coating his fingers, and he didn’t even need to say anything, his breathy chuckle against her ear telling her how pleased he was.

It was times like this, when Marinette needed him to be aggressive and quick, that he was slow and taunting. He barely caressed her, making her whine and buck against his hand.

“Needy, princess?” he asked, sucking on neck lightly.

“Please, Adrien!” she begged, fastening her hand in his hair and pulling. He groaned at this, and began to stroke faster, massaging her clit in the way he knew she liked. She hummed in approval, pressing her ass against his erection, encouraging him to grind against her. He wasted no time, his boxers straining as he rubbed against her ass, the room becoming decidedly more heated with their actions.

Adrien clawed back the covers with a gasp, and Marinette detangled herself from the dress that she had been wearing for less than ten minutes. The blonde’s body moved flush against her, and he cupped her breast with his hand, while his other teased her clit. Her underwear had already ended up around her ankles.

“I’m so late for work,” Marinette whimpered, though she was really unable to care as the pleasured whipped down her spine, making her cry out. She clamped down on Adrien’s hand, stopping him from continuing. He nuzzled against her neck in a satisfied purr, and she tilted around to kiss him.

“If you’re late, what’s another ten minutes?” Adrien asked with a cheeky grin.

“The chauffeur is going to be outside,” Marinette squeaked.

“He’ll wait,” the model winked. “That’s what he’s paid for…”

“Okay, chaton,” she sighed, any resolve blown away by her orgasm. “But ten minutes top, okay?”

“Yes, my lady,” Adrien agreed, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. “Now, turn over…”

Marinette pouted and complied, lying on her side, facing away from him. She wasn’t really so unwilling. Her heart thumped as Adrien’s chest bracketed her back, and he ripped open a foil. He pressed against her, and she reached down to guide him, opening her legs.

She swallowed as he slipped in, still unused to the initial feeling of them joining. After a year of no sex whatsoever, it blew her mind how much she and Adrien had fucked recently. She wanted to treasure each time, because she never knew when it would be their last.

The body heat between then was already intense, and Marinette raised her knees closer to her chest, allowing for deeper penetration.

“Oh, Mari…” Adrien gasped against her shoulder, before kissing her skin. His thrusts were quick and urgent, not only because of the time limit, but due to his unquenchable thirst for her.

Marinette jumped when the blonde’s hand found its way around her neck. He wasn’t choking her, more like holding her, but she had never seen Adrien act so dominant before. It was easy to forget sometimes how strong he was, how easily he could strangle her with Chat’s strength. She could feel her heartbeat thud against his fingers, and his pace increased, making her cry out.

“Are you okay?” Adrien asked immediately, removing his hand and touching her cheek.

“Yes, keep going…” Marinette demanded, and he swallowed, holding onto her hip for support as he rocked against her.

“Fuck, I’m going to come, bug…” Adrien warned her, and she nodded, reaching back to dig her fingers into his ass. It took three more thrusts before he collapsed against her, sticky and spent. 

“Sorry,” he panted, as they rolled onto their backs. “I couldn’t hang on…”

“That’s okay,” Marinette smiled sweetly. “I think two orgasms before work is a _little_ excessive…”

 

* * *

 

 

Adrien was asleep by the time she had freshened up and sourced clean underwear. Marinette couldn’t help the heat on her cheeks as she opened the door and made her way down to the boulevard. She had three missed calls, and she recognised the number as the chauffeur, Jorge. There were three that worked for Gabriel, and she was never sure who would pick her up.

“Sorry, it’s me,” Marinette immediately apologised. “I had… hair problems. It’s okay if you’ve left, I’ll just use the metro…”

“I’m right outside, Mademoiselle,” Jorge corrected.

“Oh?” Marinette blinked, but the street was devoid of any stretch limousine. They weren’t hard to miss. Then she realised: her blush deepening and her stomach clenching.

“Ahh…I’m so sorry, Jorge. I’m not at my apartment, I’m at Adrien’s! After the party, you know…sorry, I was little confused…”

Despite her nervous laugh and excuses, Jorge was as professional as always.

“Wait there, Mademoiselle. I will be ten minutes.”

 

* * *

 

 

The ride to work was silent, and Marinette thanked god it wasn’t The Gorilla who had picked her up. The other chauffeurs had always been passed off with excuses like ‘breakfast meeting” when they picked her up from Adrien’s, but Marinette had really messed up this time.

“No Monsieur Agreste today?” Jorge had inquired, and she had proceeded to turn scarlet and explain he was starting in the afternoon, due to an evening schedule.

“Have a good day,” Marinette chirped, getting out the car as fast as possible when they arrived.

“Morning, Marinette,” Gabriel Agreste greeted her at the door.

“M-morning, Monsieur Agreste!” Marinette gasped, almost jumping out of her skin, managing to drop her handbag.

Her grey-haired boss simply raised an eyebrow, before stopping down to pick it up and pass it to her.

“Thank you,” Marinette squeaked, as they walked to the elevator. _Do not think about Adrien naked do not think about Adrien naked!_

“I trust the Biffi Boutique launch went well?” Gabriel asked, as they waited on the doors closing.

“Oh yes, it was great,” Marinette nodded furiously. “I loved the rose-gold detailing, it’s very in just now. Did Marseille go okay?”

“Yes, it was profitable,” Gabriel said, checking his Rolex. “I had an interesting email from Elisabetta. She says you refused to grant her sponsorship?”

The elevator pinged open and Gabriel stepped out, looking back at Marinette, who was standing with her lips pressed together.

“Yes, I did,” she said after a beat, joining him in the corridor. “I didn’t feel she fit the image of the collection, and the EMAs are not our target audience.”

“I see,” Gabriel nodded, looking at Marinette over his glasses. “Very well. Please ask one of your team to put together an appropriate list of female celebrities and upcoming events. It is something to consider for this collection.”

“Yes, sir,” Marinette agreed, and she watched her boss walk away to his office, missing his slight smirk.

 

* * *

 

 

She found herself struggling to concentrate for the rest of the day. Marinette felt that Gabriel had been testing her, but she wasn’t sure what for, and if she had passed. Her hands shook so hard when she thought of the encounter with Elisabetta, and how much the Italian model had hurt Adrien. How could his father treat him like an asset to the business?

“Marinette, you’ve been trying to thread that needle for the last ten minutes,” Aramis said gently. “Let me?”

“Thanks,” she said weakly, handing over the spool and needle.

“Do you need some coffee? Sugar?” Sophie asked, worriedly. “You’ve been having a lot of late nights recently.”

“A café au lait would be great,” Marinette smiled. “Thanks, guys.”

_I’m lucky to have a great team. So what if the boss is a jerk? I am screwing his son, after all…_

Said son suddenly knocked on the door, his green eyes searching for Marinette.

“Do you have a moment?” he asked.

“Sure,” she smiled, trying to keep her face normal in front of her colleagues.

“Hi,” Adrien grinned, as soon as the door was closed.

“Hi,” Marinette laughed, feeling like a schoolgirl again. The blonde reached out, tucking some stray hair behind her ear, and she giggled.

“I just wanted to see you,” Adrien admitted. “I didn’t really need anything.”

“You’re being very professional today,” Marinette teased, smoothing her face into a serious express as one of the sales team walked by.

“I know,” Adrien joked, his eyes twinkling. “Do you want to have lunch together? Since I’ll be home late tonight.”

The word ‘home’ seemed to flashed between them, and got stuck in Marinette’s throat.

“Umm, sure,” she swallowed. “Where?”

“There’s a new café opened up around the corner,” Adrien said. “Nice and tucked away. I can meet you outside at one?”

“Okay,” Marinette agreed. She checked the corridor before quickly leaning forward and brushing her lips against his. “See you then.”

There was something about the Agreste men that completely caught her off-guard.  

 

* * *

 

Less than twenty minutes later, Marinette felt her phone buzz in her pocket. Clamping some fabric with her teeth, she fished the device out and saw a new message flash up:

 **Chaton:**   **Sorry, can’t do lunch ;__; my dad wants to catch up and I couldn’t think of an excuse fast enough. I’ll be ready next time! ;; xox**

Marinette sighed, sliding the phone back into her pocket. All this creeping around was starting to irritate her. How long would it be until Gabriel set Adrien up with another Elisabetta? She scrunched up her nose. The very thought made her see red.

 

* * *

 

She didn’t see Adrien for the rest of the day, and she left work at six o’clock, deciding to walk to clear her head. Marinette was being petty, she knew it, but she just wanted to go back to her own apartment and climb under the covers for a good cry. Her back was sore, her fingers dry, and her gums were throbbing.

_Ahh, that’s why I’m so emotional…_

Relieved, Marinette took a detour, locating the nearest pharmacy, stocking up on tampons and painkillers, since Adrien wasn’t likely to have either. The night was cool and fresh, and something made her not want to be inside yet. She wandered along the Seine, grateful for the brisk breeze. The lights of Notre Dame shone ahead in the night, like candles, and Marinette was enjoying how serene it all was.

Then, at the Pont de l'Archevêché, screaming began, and Marinette clutched her ears. It was nothing to do with the noise, but rather the earrings that were suddenly red hot against her skin.

 

* * *

 

 

Adrien felt awful for letting Marinette down, and even worse when his father revealed he had mentioned Elisabetta’s email that morning. He had to make it up to her, but he wasn’t sure how, and he mulled it over as his driver took him to the fashion trade meeting that Gabriel had so kindly enrolled him in.

Traffic slowed as they neared Notre Dame, which was normal, but they soon came to a complete stop.

“Is there an accident?” Adrien asked, for it wouldn’t be unusual for a moped to jump the traffic lights, or a tourist to take a wrong turning.

“I can’t really tell,” Jorge admitted. “Wait…is that a bus?”

Adrien squinted his eyes. In the dark, it was hard to make out, but he could just spot the difference between the lights of the Pont de l'Archevêché and the bus, whose orange hazards were flashing. It seemed like it had collided with a lorry, and now the front half was teetering dangerously over the bridge, having smashed through the antique pillars.

“I’m going to get help!” Adrien suddenly shouted, climbing out the limo before Jorge could even react. He ran towards the bridge, where a crowd was now forming, and he could see the bus slip forward as the passengers desperately tried to evacuate.

“Smash the windows!” he yelled, before ducking behind a car and transforming.

The bus wobbled uncertainly, and Chat lunged forward, baton bared aloft as the vehicle made to nosedive straight into the Seine, causing the crowd to scream.

“No!” Chat refused to let it happen, and he prayed to make it in time, though even with his strength, he was unsure how he could stop it…

“Watch out!” a familiar voice shouted, and an even more familiar sound tore across the Parisian skyline. A yoyo string appeared, and wrapped around the front of the bus, steadying it.

“Pull!” a voice ordered, and as Chat arrived on the scene, he witnessed the crowd rally behind a certain spotted heroine.

Seconds seemed to slow for him. The last time he had seen her in the suit, she had been a teenager, like him. But now, she was a woman. Gone were the cute little bunches. Her dark hair was now piled high in neat bun. She had always been small and lithe, and perhaps many wouldn't notice the change in her body, but he did. He felt his heart tremble in his ribcage, and he realised it had been _too long_.

“Just in time, chaton!” Ladybug gasped, “A little help?”

“My pleasure!” Chat grinned, running forward and taking hold of the string, which he knew could not snap. Together, they pulled the bus back to the safety of the road, and helped the terrified passengers spring open the destroyed door.

“Ladybug!” they gasped one by one, incredulous. “And Chat Noir! You’re back!”

“Yes,” she grinned, swinging the yoyo around her finger, as if she had never stopped. “But don’t worry. It’s just us. No Hawkmoth.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” one mother exclaimed, patting her children on the head, who were crying. “I don’t think we could go back to those days…”

“There, now!” Chat laughed, picking up the smallest boy and propping him on his shoulders. “You’re safe now, little man!”

“Thank you so much,” the bus driver said, shaking both their hands. “I thought we were goners, for sure!”

“You’re welcome,” Ladybug beamed. “And here come the police, right on time as always…”

“Well, our work here is done!” Chat chuckled, returning the boy, now smiling, to his mother. “Let’s go, LB!”

“What’s the rush—?” Ladybug asked, as Chat fastened a hand around her wrist and pulled. The press had just began to assemble, and were calling their names. The flash of a camera illuminated Chat’s eyes and she cut off her sentence,  allowing him to pull her away from the scene.

They made it the roof of his apartment before he stopped and pulled her close. It took Ladybug a few moments to realise he was crying - really sobbing his heart out - because he made no noise at all. His shoulders shuddered, and his cheek was wet against hers.

“Shh, chaton,” she said gently, stroking his hair. “Aren’t you happy?”

“Of course,” he choked out, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. “I was just unprepared. And I thought that bus was going into the water, I really did. It made me remember how helpless I am without you.”

“You’re not helpless, silly,” Ladybug scolded him, pulling back and tapping him on the nose. “We’re balanced, you know that. We work in different ways. You are better than cat fights than I am, right?”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, my lady?” Chat pouted.

“It’s supposed to make you laugh,” she said gently, wiping away his tears and kissing his face.

“How did you come back, anyway?” the black cat asked, ears twitching. “Is Tikki back to full power now?”

“I don’t know…” the heroine admitted, holding her lobes. “It was like she sensed danger nearby, and next thing I knew I was transformed…”

“Anyway, I’m glad,” Chat smiled, pulling her hands away from her ears, and bringing them to his lips. “Welcome back, Ladybug.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God damn Agreste men.

They raced home, giggling like the teenagers they had once been. Ladybug relished in the power thrumming through her bones once more, the forgotten adrenaline rush that could only be found from tumbling through the Parisian night sky.

“Tikki!” Marinette de-tranformed as soon as they were safe in Adrien’s bedroom, and cupped the little red bug to her cheek. “I missed you so much!”

“Marinette!” Tikki rubbed against her face. Adrien watched, Plagg hopping around on his shoulder, no doubt waiting for his moment to tackle the red bug himself.

“Have you been sleeping all this time?” Marinette asked, her eyes wet, even though she was beaming.

“More like a coma,” Tikki grinned. “I had to regather the power I lost from purifying Hawkmoth.”

“Welcome back,” Adrien spoke up, and the red god turned and looked at him.

“You’re both so big now!” Tikki gasped. “I’ve missed so much.”

“You’re not kidding,” Plagg cut in, bopping against her face. “I had to put up with these idiots all on my own!”

Marinette giggled, and Adrien slung an arm around her shoulder.

“So, you are finally together?” Tikki observed.

“Yeah,” Marinette blushed, nudging Adrien with her elbow. He pretended to be hurt, before kissing her cheek.

 

* * *

 

They arrived at work together the next morning, in high spirits and unable to keep their eyes off each other. Gabriel watched them closely in the board meeting, and once it was finished, he asked them both to wait behind. Marinette felt her stomach drop. Had it been too good to last, after all?

“Adrien,” Mons. Agreste began, looking at them over the tips of his fingers. “We have spoken about this before, and you have successfully avoided the subject. But we need to discuss the future of this company. And _your_ future.”

Marinette felt a headache pulse at her temples. The cramp and back pain that had disappeared during her spate as Ladybug now seemed to hit her full-force, and all she wanted to do was curl up in the corner and cry.

“I’m not sure this conversation involves me…” she began, looking longingly to the door.

Gabriel smiled coldly at her. “Adrien, I want you to marry Marinette.”

“What?!” they both exclaimed.

“Père, please,” Adrien said, taking a step forward. “I told you I don’t want you interfering in my relationships!”

“Come now, Adrien,” Gabriel sighed. “Don’t you love her? It makes perfect sense. Marinette is going to go far here, and I can rest assured the company won’t flounder when I’m gone. Plus, think of the press. They’ll love it.”

“I can’t believe you!” the model gasped, slapping his hand down on the desk. “I want to marry Marinette, but for my own reasons! Not a flashy media stunt! A quiet wedding, away from the public eye.”

“Oh?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“And I suppose what I want has nothing to do with this?” Marinette asked, voice trembling.

“Mari…” Adrien blinked, as if suddenly realising she had been absent from the conversation.

“Thanks for asking, but I’m not interested,” she said, taking off her Gabriel lanyard and placing it forcefully on the desk.

“Marinette, wait!” Adrien begged, but she had already left.

 

* * *

 

 

She was fuming. She felt like a volatile volcano, ready to erupt and cover everyone with her rage. She wanted to burn, blister, break. Marinette fast-walked to her apartment, keys shaking in her hands, barely able to open the front door. Angry tears streamed down her face, and she let them fall.

She bumped into her neighbour in the hall, a peaceful guy with dreads who lived next door.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked. She had never got his name, they simply nodded to each other from time to time.

“Yeah,” Marinette smiled weakly, scrubbing her face with the back of her hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

She let herself into her apartment, which felt cold and unlived in.

“Marinette?” Tikki appeared by her side, her eyes big and sad. “Are you okay?”

“Stupid cat,” she replied, climbing onto her mattress (the bed had still yet to arrive) and wrapping her duvet around her like a burrito. It smelt stale. When had she last slept here?

“You know what Gabriel is like,” Tikki sighed. “He probably meant well.”

“Why didn’t he mention it before, Tikki?” Marinette cried. “If Adrien wanted to marry me, he could have said something! Now… it will never happen.”

“Don’t say that,” the red god reassured her, snuggling into her shoulder. “I know it’s not the way you wanted, but he clearly cares about you.”

“I worked so hard to get to Gabriel,” Marinette sobbed. “I can’t face seeing them. I’ve had enough of Agreste men!”

She suddenly leapt up, locking all the windows in the apartment and pulling the curtains closed, to make it clear black cats were not invited in. Then, she climbed back into bed for a good cry.

 

* * *

 

 

“I hope you’re happy,” Adrien moaned, covering his face with his hands. “She won’t reply to any of my calls.”

“Well, it’s your fault for not proposing sooner,” Gabriel shrugged, shuffling through some papers.

“Thanks,” the model replied sarcastically. “Well, you’ve well and truly blown any chance I had with her.”

“Nonsense,” Gabriel said, signing the paper with a flourish. “Your mother refused me the first time, too.”

“She did?” Adrien looked up from his hands.

“You need a ring,” his father told him.

 

* * *

 

 

“YOU’RE WHAT??” Alya screeched down the phone, causing Adrien to wince and hold the device away from his ear.

“Proposing,” Adrien confirmed. “What would Marinette prefer, do you think? White gold? Rose gold? Coloured stone?”

“Hold up,” Alya laughed. “Nino, are you guys pranking me? Is this because of the hot sauce from last night? You almost had me going, guys.”

“I don’t want to know about the hot sauce,” Adrien shuddered. “Can you please just tell me what she likes?”

There was another scream and a thumping noise as if the mobile had been dropped. After a scuffle, Nino’s voice came on the line.

“Dude, is this for real?” Nino asked. “Alya’s having a fit.”

“Yes, it is for real!” Adrien said, frustrated. “Why is everyone so surprised about this?”

“Well, she’s not sure about jewellery, man. Marinette doesn’t tend to wear much. Maybe ask her mama?”

Shit, her parents. Adrien realised he hadn’t even asked for permission to marry their daughter. He was doing this all backwards.

 

* * *

 

 

Marinette passed a restless night, waking up every hour. She dreamed of a life without fashion designing, without Adrien, and woke up feeling hollow.

“Maybe I overreacted,” she whispered to the Tikki sleeping on her pillow. Then she would reply the conversation in her head again and the anger would fill her once more.

“No!” she shook her head, and slapped her cheeks. “I can work anywhere. Gabriel has already controlled Adrien’s life. I won’t let him control me, too.”

In the morning, she planned to go for a run. Marinette called her staff and let them know she was sick and wouldn’t be in work. Satisfied, she pounded the pavement for an hour, sweating out all the anxiety and stress.

When she returned to her apartment block, there was a familiar limo outside. She paused, wiping a hand across her sweaty brow, her hair tied back in nostalgic bunches. She couldn’t tell if she was happy or pissed off.

“Morning, Marinette,” Adrien was sitting on the steps leading to her front door. There were two coffee cups and a bag from her parents’ bakery next to him. “Would you like some breakfast?”

Marinette sat down next to him without a word, and accepted the coffee.

“Water would probably be better,” Adrien cringed. “Sorry. I didn’t realise you would have been running.”

She opened the bag and was gratified to see the pain au chocolat. It was still warm and oozed sugary goodness. It had been a while since she had visited her parents, and she felt guilty.

“I spoke to your mother and father,” Adrien said, filling the silence. “They remembered me, which was nice.”

“They better not have given you a discount,” Marinette said sharply.

Adrien laughed and sipped his coffee. “Oh, they tried to give me them for free! But don’t worry, I paid.”

“Hmm,” Marinette tried not to smile. “Mama always did like you.”

“Do you still like me?” Adrien asked, bumping against her shoulder.

“A little, I guess,” Marinette said.

“I can work with that,” Adrien grinned. “By the way, your father gave me his blessing. He said I was welcome into the family, the sooner the better.”

“Hmm,” Marinette made a half-interested noise.

“So, basically, whenever you want to…if you want to… I’m yours. I’m pretty easy: big wedding, small wedding, elope, whatever you want.”

Marinette took another bite of her pastry. Adrien Agreste, model and superhero, was basically laying himself out on a silver platter for her. She could mend his heart, or she could crush it.

“No pressure,” Adrien babbled. “I don’t need an answer right now, just whenever you feel ready to talk about it. And it’s nothing to do with my Père, just between us.”

“Adrien,” Marinette brushed some crumbs from her mouth. “Can you please shut up?”

The blonde blinked at her, and his face fell. She could see he was already processing the rejection.

“You silly cat,” Marinette sighed, cradling his face and kissing him. “It’s a yes, okay? Of course I want to marry you. I just wanted _you_ to ask me, not your father.”

“Sorry,” Adrien sighed, leaning his forehead against hers. “It surprised me as much as you.”

“I like the eloping idea,” Marinette grinned.

“Really?” Adrien brightened. “Anywhere you want, princess. But wouldn’t your parents be upset? And what about Alya and Nino?”

“We can have something with them, afterwards,” Marinette mused. “But I always liked the idea of Hawaii.”

“Hold on,” Adrien pulled his mobile phone out his pocket. “There’s a flight tonight at ten o’clock.”

“Are you serious?” Marinette breathed.

He nodded, green eyes vivid. “Just you and me. That’s all I want. We can do that cheesy movie thing and get two random strangers to be our witnesses. I don’t think they’ll know who I am over there. Gabriel’s marketing doesn’t reach that far…”

“Okay,” Marinette nodded, excitedly. “Let’s do it!”

“Oh God,” Adrien laughed, tapping his screen. “Alya is going to _kill_ me...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for following this story <3 I hope you can check out my other works.
> 
> Do comment if you would like a steamy Hawaii epilogue, I *may* be persuaded if enough are interested...


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